


Griffin Industries

by wordyanansi



Series: Griffin Industries [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin's world is spun out of control when she has to leave her life at college studying fine arts to take over the family business. The business is failing, and running out of options she hires Blake Consultancy to help her save the company. She's never been a damsel, but she definitely needs rescuing.</p><p>Bellamy Blake loves his job, he loves telling people what to do it save themselves, or their companies. He likes working through everyone else's mistakes. Mostly, people just do what he says. So when he arrives at Griffin Industries, he doesn't expect this job to be any different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Introduction

Clarke Griffin put her head in her hands and wondered what the hell she was going to do.

She’d been back in Arkadia for less than a fortnight and it felt like in the last five days especially her carefully ordered life had spiralled completely out of control.

Her parents were dead. Killed in a car accident, and she’d left everything behind at college to come back and make the necessary arrangements… and try to pick up the pieces of her father’s company. Truthfully, she had no idea what she was doing, she wasn’t even a business major, and yet here she was, staring at spreadsheets that were looking less and less like anything good. But there were one hundred people employed by Griffin Engineering. One hundred people relying on her to figure something out. She felt the weight of it tugging at her constantly. On top of everything else, the numbers weren’t adding up. And she wasn’t sure her heart could take losing the company as well. She had to fix this.

She called Wells, her father’s assistant in. Her assistant, she reminded herself for umpteenth time.

“What can I get you Clarke?” he asked, standing in the door way.

“We need help, Wells,” she said. “We need to hire someone to help me understand this mess, and help me fix it.” Wells nodded.

“I’ve heard of some people. Blake Consulting. Want me to get you their number?” he asked. She nodded.

“Thank you, Wells,” she said, and he left her alone in the office that was her father’s while she tried not to cry.

\---

Bellamy Blake smiled atwoman waking up beside him. He was already awake, showered, dressed and just about to leave.

“Morning,” he says, touching her shoulder. She looks over at him, taking a beat to register where she is, who he is.

“Hi,” she replied. She rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up without revealing her nudity. It didn’t fit well with the way they had torn each other’s clothes off not seven hours ago. He smirked.

“There’s coffee and aspirin on the kitchen counter,” he said. “I have to go to work.” He stood, straightening his shirt and tie in the reflection of the window as he went to stride out of the room.

“Wait,” she said. He paused, turning back. “Um… last night was…” she tried.

“Last night was last night,” he explained. “We don’t owe each other anything, and I won’t call you.” She winced, and nodded. He nodded in return.

“It’s been fun,” he said, and left without a backwards glance. He wondered if he should have told her not to steal anything. He wondered if he remembered her name. He shrugged, shifting his focus to work as he shut the door to his apartment. He grinned, remembering today was the day he was meeting his next client, Griffin Industries. He loved the initial meeting, laying the ground rules, explaining how this worked. He hadn’t thought he’d go into consultancy, but there was something he loved about going in to someone else’s mess and dealing with the fall out. Cutting staff, or selling off chunks of business. His word was powerful, he was good at what he did. And he loved it.

He met Nathan Miller, his financial consultant, as they entered the building their office was housed in.

“Big day today boss,” Miller said as they crossed the foyer to the elevators. Bellamy grinned.

“Have you had a chance to look at the numbers for Griffin?” Bellamy asked, knowing he had. Miller nodded.

“It’s not looking good. Their accounting department is either useless or someone is siphoning money and running them into the ground deliberately. It’s a fucking mess,” Miller said as reached their floor. Bellamy nodded, trying not to smile. Miller bumped him. “You’re such a bastard,” he said. Bellamy laughed.

“Of course. What other kind of person would be a consultant?” Bellamy asked. Miller chuckled as he slid behind his desk, booting up his computer.

Bellamy moved into his office closing the door behind him. He picked up the file that Roma had compiled for him about Griffin Industries, and the woman in charge, Clarke Griffin. He paused and looked at her photo. Blonde hair, blue eyes, she was pretty, typical daddy’s little princess… but there was something in the set of her jaw that made him that she wasn’t going to just do what he said and he grinned, bracing himself for a fight. She’d left art school to come back and run daddy’s engineering firm after he died. She wasn’t going to let go without a fight, but then from what Miller said, she might not have a choice. He shrugged, it didn’t matter to him what she did, as long as he got paid.


	2. First Impressions

Clarke’s first impression of Bellamy Blake is that he probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in an advertisement for Armani. Her second impression is that he was a smug bastard. The art major in her nudged, _he’d be so good to draw._ Her minded flicked instantly through mediums, setting on black charcoal to capture the sharp angles of his face and the darkness of his eyes, quashing the annoyance of not capturing the colour of his skin. She squashed it down as she stood up, offering him her hand. Business, she told herself again, I am not an art major anymore, I run a business.

“Bellamy Blake?” she asked him, forcing her voice to have the tone she remembered from her mother, polite and firm, he accepted her hand and nodded. She gripped it firmly and shook it once before releasing. _A good strong handshake garners respect,_ her father taught her. The look on his face as she released seemed to confirm this lesson. She smiled at Bellamy.  “I’m Clarke Griffin.” Bellamy returned her smile. The photo in the dossier… she looked less alive somehow. Internally, he shrugged, running a failing business and losing your parents will do that to you, he guessed. And he moved the thoughts aside as he proceeded with his standard introduction.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke. I assume I can call you Clarke? You can call me Bellamy. This is Nathan Miller, he’s in charge of the financial consultancy and I’ve brought him along today because it seems that there are quite a few issues in that department,” he explained, getting straight down to business as usual. Clarke didn’t even raise her eyebrows at his statement, reaching over to shake Miller’s hand.

“Clarke’s fine,” she replied. “Nice to meet you Nathan.” She paused as they took their seats at the conference table. Bellamy watched as Clarke looked to have an internal battle with herself about something. Never play poker, princess, he thought to himself. And then he wondered where the hell that came from.

“So,” Clarke said after a moment, “I suppose I should ask if you want anything to drink but honestly, I just want to know how bad it is. Because, I mean, clearly, it’s not good.” She wondered if this was the wrong thing to say, would her father have said it? Did it matter? She tried not to sigh, tried not to wish he was here to ask for advice. It never occurred to her to blame him for the mess she was currently in.

Bellamy was impressed by her honesty. Most of the people he met tried to make excuses or cover up problems.  But either the tiny blonde woman in front of him didn’t take pride in her work or she was incredibly worried. He was inclined to go with the latter, noting the dark circles under her eyes, imperfectly hidden with makeup.

“Well, if it was good, you wouldn’t have called us would you?” Bellamy asked, quirking his mouth slightly. Clarke sighed. And Bellamy gestured to Miller to proceed.

“You have, approximately, one month before you run out of money to pay people, leaving three contracts unfinished and you with, potentially, $650 000 of debt,” Miller explained, trying to keep the apology out of his voice, Bellamy noted it wasn’t working incredibly well. “It’s my professional opinion that there is an issue with your accounting department. In some ways the damage has been done, but finding the source of the problem may give you a little more time. However, financially, your options are limited and at this stage, your only options are drastic. The company isn’t saleable without a substantial financial investment that no sane investor would make given the state of your books. While we will do our best to find other solutions, you need to be prepared to walk away from the company and sell it piecemeal. The machinery, tools, and the building should cover most of the remaining debtors.” Clarke looked at him blankly as he spoke. The words making it into her head. Bellamy watcher her carefully, knowing that he took the measure of the people that hired him in their reactions to this kind of news. Clarke stood up and moved away from the table. What is she doing? He wondered. It was new, that was for sure. He glanced over at Miller, who shrugged. They watched as she opened the door and stuck her head out. He did not notice, deliberately, the way she let one leg off the floor, holding on to the door frame and the door handle like an awkward ballerina. He did not notice her hair falling out from behind her ear and shielding her face, long blonde, and almost wavy. But, he supposed he was only human after all, the way her pencil skirt hugged her ass and hampered the movement of her legs. There was something decidedly erotic about it, he cut his eyes to Miller, who was noticing something similar. Miller glanced his way after a moment and they shared a smile, before going back to watching her.       

“Wells?” she called out. There was a muffled response. “Can you bring us some coffee? And, like, at least six donuts.” There was another muffled response. “Just bring me a donut, will you?” she replied at sat back down. She looked at the men across the table from her, paler than she was when they had walked in. “Sorry, stress eater,” she explained, with an apologetic smile. “So, let’s talk about this issue in accounts.”

Forty minutes and four donuts later, the three of them still sat around the conference table, spreadsheets and graphs spread out before them messily. Bellamy still had no idea what to make of Clarke Griffin. He was usually good at making quick judgments. It was part of what him made him good at what he did. But Clarke Griffin sat there, asking questions when she was unsure, not hiding her lack of experience, but not apologising for it either. She deferred to Miller’s experience. But she wasn’t backing  down from trying to save the company either. Idealistic, he wanted to say. But it was more than that, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. It was clear that Clarke was incredibly smart, and he wanted to just ask her why she was being so stupid about this.

Clarke, on the other hand, was wondered what exactly the mission statement of Blake Consultancy was, and whether or not she had made a mistake in hiring them. Nathan was great, patient, and he was explaining things clearly and concisely. Clarke was feeling like she could do this, maybe, with help. Well, with better help. With a new accounting department, apparently, and probably a CFO or something. But this could work. I mean, it wasn’t looking good and it might end in disaster, but it she might be able to save everyone’s jobs. She might not have to let go of this piece of her father. Not yet, at least. The first step seemed clear to her. Find the problem and fix it. She couldn’t understand why Bellamy kept telling her to cut her losses.

“Clarke, this isn’t going to work if you aren’t going to listen to us,” Bellamy tried to explain. Clarke tilted her head to the side and looked at him, trying to understand.

“But I am listening to you. Nathan said there was something wrong with accounting and that we need to fix it. We’ve isolated that someone is screwing up and he’s going to investigate it and find the answer. And then we’ll fix it. It doesn’t save the company but it gives me a little more time to try and save it,” she said patiently. Bellamy sighed. That tone of voice… he didn’t know if he’d ever felt more like slapping someone. He tried not to grind his teeth.

“It’s not going to be enough. You’re going to go under. You’re going need to think about, no, you’re actually going to have to cut the workforce by a third if you expect to save the company,” Bellamy said. “And even then, you will still probably have to fold and you’ll be responsible for even more debt.” Clarke shook her head. Bellamy lost the battle and ground his teeth.

“You’re talking about doing thirty people out of their livelihood. What do you want me to do? Pick thirty names out of a hat and say too bad, so sad? Just get rid of the newest thirty. Most of whom have been with the company for over a year? These aren’t just numbers, Bellamy, these are people,” Clarke said angrily, grabbing another donut and stuffing it in her mouth. Miller leaned back in his chair awkwardly, trying not to smile and Blake’s frustration. It was rare to see his jaw work like that, he thought to himself quietly. Bellamy stared at Clarke in disbelief. Fucking art major, he thought to himself. You didn’t think about them as people if you expected to be successful. This was ridiculous. And then there was that god damn donut. Who just eats a donut in the middle of business meeting? He shook his head slightly in disbelief. He’d met with some fat middle aged men who didn’t do that, and there was this slip of thing shoving her face full of carbs. She must have an amazing metabolism, he thought to himself. She must be fucking insane, he reminded himself.

“Nathan,” Clarke said, turning to him, shifting her body away from Bellamy. “What do you need to get started on sorting out accounting? How long do you think it will take?” Bellamy didn’t even turn to look at him, and Miller wondered how he should answer. Honesty and Business were the Blake Consultancy philosophies, so he went with that.

“I don’t know how long it would take. If I could just have administrative access and a computer, I could start now,” he said. “Probably not very long, a few days maybe?” Clarke nodded, and grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen.

“Here’s my fath-, MY log in information. It has full access. You’re welcome to go down into accounting, I know we have a spare desk, or you can use my office down the hall. Wells can show you were it is if you get lost,” Clarke explained, offering him the paper. Miller looked at it hesitantly, and then back to his boss. This wasn’t how they normally did things. CEOs did not hand over log in information…

“Just take it,” Bellamy sighed. “If she had anything to hide she wouldn’t be doing it and I’m sure she’s smart enough to change the password later.” Miller took the paper and headed out without another word, leaving his boss to deal with the enigmatic Clarke Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter!   
> I know, I'm mean.


	3. Home

Clarke slammed the door of the house when she got home that night and fought back a scream. Of all the arrogant, selfish, bastards… She stormed into the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and the fridge, pouring herself a rum and coke, downing it, and pouring another.

She had fought her anger back all day. She had tried not to yell at him. Not to scream that she wasn’t an idiot. Not to just fire him. I need him, she reminded herself as she downed the next drink. She hesitated momentarily on pouring another, sighed, and did it anyway, slower this time. Calming herself down. She breathed in and out slowly, closing her eyes. I need him to get us through this, she repeated to herself. He’s just doing his job, she tried. I’m going to punch him in the face, she finished calmly, taking a sip of run and moving into the lounge room.

She sat there, in the over stuffed arm chair, slumped slightly. And she realised that for the first time since everything had happened she didn’t just feel sad. In fact, she hadn’t felt ‘just sad’ all day. She raised her glass in a silent toast. Bellamy fucking Blake. Ass hole. Maybe it was going to be okay. Maybe she was going to be okay. She sighed, taking another sip of rum and leaning back further in the chair. She closed her eyes. Okay.

She was still sitting there, slowly slipping her drink in silence when there was a knock at the door. She stood automatically and then hesitated. She hadn’t ordered food, she was approaching drunk, and there was an unexpected knock at the door. She shrugged. What’s the worst that could happen, she thought, and proceeded not to think about any of the possibilities as she crossed the lounge room and the entrance hall to answer the door. Her hand was on the door knob before she heard her mother’s voice in her head reminding her to check the peep hole. Finn. She flung open the door and stared at him for moment. A million questions raced through her mind. What are you doing here? How did you get here? What’s going on? But none of them made it out of her mouth. She stood there, staring at him, trying to process him in this new environment. He grinned at her, hands in his pockets, his eyes almost sheepish.

“Hey, princess,” he said after a moment. His words broke the shock and Clarke tumbled out of the door and thudded into him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the familiar smell of his canvas jacket. She felt his body laugh as he wrapped his arms around her. “Hey,” he whispered a second time. Clarke nodded into his shoulder.

“Hi,” she said softly, tears involuntarily streaming down her face. He pulled away from her slightly, holding her shoulders, trying to look at her face, but she kept ducking him. He chucked her chin with his index finger.

“Hey, princess, what’s up?” he asked. And she laughed, actually laughed. She swatted his shoulder.

“What are you even doing here? Come inside and…. Just come inside and tell me everything,” she said, turning back inside, letting her hand catch his and it slid off her shoulder. He followed her into the house and she led him to the lounge room. “Do you want anything?” she asked, she sat on the couch, and he sat beside her, curling up to face each other, knees and elbows touching as they propped their heads up on the back of the couch.

“I missed you,” Finn whispered to her, and she felt his breath on her lips.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered back. His face always reminds her of innocence, of childhood adventures, even though she’s only known him for a year. Baby face, her mother said when she saw his picture on facebook. But there was something in his dark eyes that melted her, something her mother couldn’t see.

She remembered when the photo was taken, the day she’d met him. She’d seen him around, of course, but she’d never had a reason to talk to him. She wanted to hike up Mount Weather, and her friend Jasper had told her it was an awful track, but she didn’t change her mind. So Jasper organised a hiking group. Monty, his best friend, and Finn. At the last minute Jasper included Octavia, the girl he had a crush on. They’d taken the photo just before lunch, laughing, arms all around each other, convinced this was the most fun they’d had on a hike. She didn’t want to remember what happened next, Octavia rolling her ankle and then Jasper falling… they had both been fine, but there had been a lot more hanging out in bars and a lot less climbing mountains after that. But they’d formed a kind of band of friendship, the four of them, sometimes the five when Octavia wasn’t busy with her latest fling. But then Finn had been there when she hadn’t expected him. Walking with her between classes that were on the way to his next class. Appearing at the coffee shop she went to every Thursday after her critical theory class, which exhausted her. And he’d be there, smiling, telling her stories and being on her side.

When they’d started dating, it seemed like natural progression. Like it was this inevitable, normal thing that was just going to happen, like autumn leaves. They’d barely been started when she’d been torn away from college, from him, and dragged back to Arkadia. He hadn’t followed, hadn’t said it was over, but he’d known, and she’d known, that she probably wasn’t coming back. That it was probably over. She’d been back for a week and he hadn’t called or texted or emailed. She’d thought he wouldn’t come, that he’d just accept it. Like somehow not having the conversation would make it easier.

But there he was, on her parents, on her couch, staring into her eyes like an apology and a promise. She smiled at him softly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him. He smiled back at her, tilting his head closer the couch.

“I told you, I missed you,” he said. She waited for more. She had to know that there was more than just missing her, despite the thrill that twisted in her stomach. If he really loved her why didn’t he call earlier? Why did he just say okay and let her walk away? She desperately wanted just to fold herself up in him. But she knew it would only hurt more later if she let it drag out. She cursed that she hadn’t drunk enough to make it not matter. He nudged her forehead with his before pulling back.

“I didn’t realise how empty it would feel without you there. And then, I just… I figured you’d need someone here and I thought, maybe, that you wouldn’t hate it if it was me,” he explained and she let out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding leaning in to him, pressing her lips to his. He reached for her, pulling her closer, and their bodies fit together awkwardly, knees digging into hips and hand pulling at each other. He shifted, leaning against her, forcing her backwards on the couch. And she lay down, willingly, not wanting to stop. Finn’s hands untucked the shirt  from her pencil skirt, fitting his hands underneath it, against the skin of her stomach, her sides, her back. She reached for him, removing his jacket, slipping her fingers under his t-shirt. Clarke reaches up to his shoulders, and runs her fingertips gently down his back, gripping and his hips as the kiss gets more intense, before breaking the kiss only to drag his shirt over his head and discard it. There is something in the back of her mind telling her to stop, but she silences it, and gives herself over to the need and the pleasure of feeling something other than sadness. He slips his hands out from her skin and, starting at the bottom he begins to unbutton here shirt. He pauses, half way up, parting the shirt and sliding his hands against her skin again. Then, suddenly, he stops, drawing back slightly, hands not moving from where they burn into her waist. Clarke goes to moves up to kiss him again, but he holds here there. He is looking at her face, searching it for something.

“Are you sure?” he asks. They haven’t done this before. “We can stop here,” he says. But Clarke is past caring, and this time when she presses against his hands, drawing herself up to kiss him again, he doesn’t stop her.

\---

Bellamy shut the door to his apartment heavily. Flinging his jacket at the coat rack by the door, not watching it miss and hit the ground, he moves to the bar he keeps in the corner, pouring a whiskey and down it, letting the burn in the throat sting, and the caramel coat his tongue. Miller had told him to calm down when they’d left Griffin Industries that afternoon. Had reminded him it’s just business and she’s going to make her own bed to lay in. But somehow, it wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. You get paid no matter what, Miller shrugged. That’s all that matters, he’d replied, but he didn’t feel it. For a smart person, she was so incredibly stupid. He knocked back the rest of the whiskey and poured another, before heading over to the kitchen to find something to microwave. When he saw the girl from last night (what was her name?) and left her number there, in lipstick on paper he scowled. Tacky. He threw the paper away without a second thought. He’d said he wasn’t going to call and yet here was her number. He’d said the business wasn’t salvageable and yet here was Clarke not listening to a fucking work he said. Women, he scowled as the phone rang. He answered it without looking at the caller id, still staring into the fridge.

“What?” he asked, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Woah Bell, if you’re busy I can just call back later,” his sister, O, said, annoyed at him. He sighed, closing the fridge door empty handed.

“Sorry, O,” he replied, his voice softer, automatically shifting into the tone he used especially for her. He could feel her smile.

“What’s got you so worked up, big brother?” she asked him, teasing. He grinned.

“New client,” he said. “She’s inherited this company and it’s a mess. And I have no idea why she hired us if she isn’t going to listen to me,” he continued, moving on in his search for food to the cupboards. He really needed to get better at having food in his apartment, he told himself.

“Oh, it’s a she?” O teased again. “Is she pretty?” Bellamy scoffed.

“Pretty hardly matters,” he replied. “It’s got nothing to do with the problem that she’s an idiot.” O laughed.

“So she’s pretty,” she deduced. Bellamy came up empty in the cupboards too, and found himself looking at the picture of he and O that was stuck askew to the fridge door from her last visit.

“Did you actually call to talk to me about something?” he asked her, changing the subject. O laughed again.

“Okay, okay, I can take a hint. Listen, I have a friend who just moved back to Arkadia and I thought I might come back next week for a few days to see how she’s doing. I know you’re busy working but I thought if I crashed at your place I might actually get to see you occasionally,” O replied. He could feel the way she bit her lip, the way she almost added, if it’s not too much trouble. He missed her suddenly, wished she was here. He hated the doubt in her voice. Their mother had raised them alone, working three jobs, until she died of a heart condition they’d never known she had. Bellamy had always been the one taking care of her and he wished she’d stop apologising for it.

“Of course, O, you’re always welcome. I’ll make up the guest room. When are you coming?” he asked her, trying not to let the tiredness back into his voice, wondering when he was going to find the time. Wishing he could take time off to hang out with her.

“Uh, I’m thinking next week. Do you mind if I bring a friend with me?” she asked him. Bellamy frowned.

“What friend?” he asked _, don’t be a boyfriend, don’t be a boyfriend_. He knew she dated, but he’d never met them. Quick flings and never a broken heart. Just like him. But bring the boyfriend to meet him was serious and he wasn’t sure he’d be able not to throttle someone touching his little sister. O laughed at him.

“A girl friend. She just got back from six months in Brazil and apparently she wants to surprise her boyfriend,” O told him. Safe, he exhaled, not realising he’d been holding that breath so tightly, and O laughed again.

“Yeah that’s fine. Text me before you leave campus,” he told her. He liked to have warning, and she was really great at just showing up. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a key but he didn’t want her to walk in while he was fucking some woman either.

“Okay big brother, don’t work too hard,” she said.

“Be safe,” he replied, before disconnecting. He finished his whiskey as he reached for a drawer containing delivery menus. At least when O was here there was food in the fridge, he reminded himself, trying not to stress about making sure he found time for her while she was here. Not that it would be a problem if Clarke Griffin fired him. He nearly added ‘or he gave up’, but shook his head. He never gave up. And he didn’t think about the twinge in his gut that definitely came from the whiskey and not from the fact that she’d fire him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what I'm writing right now. 
> 
> When I started watching The 100 I was kind of for Clarke and Finn being together because she made him better and he made her smile. And then there was Raven and I was like, okay whatever, but for most of season one I was lightly shipping Clarke and Finn. But then Season two happened and especially that (spoiler) massacre and I was just like, nope, it's dead. She can never be with him now, ever. And if we're being honest, that Bellarke reunion hug? Yeah that was like yep, Bellarke forever right there.  
> So writing this was a lot more... conflicting than I wanted it to be. And in case you hadn't figured it out, I'm kind of retelling the story loosely along the canon tv story line. I'm also pretty terrible at writing smut, so I'm probably not going to talk about throbbing members and wet vaginas.   
> Yep.


	4. The Problem In Finances

As they tangled in the sheets with dawn approaching, Clarke wondered how long Finn was going to be here for. If this was all it was, this one night… well, she’d deal with it. It wasn’t the end of the world. But she hoped it wasn’t. She really could use somebody, just to be here, quietly, on her team. Finn stirred, waking, looking at her.

“Hey, princess,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. She smiled back at him.

“Hey,” she replied gently. He blinked a few times, and propped himself up to look at her properly, coming awake properly.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked her. Clarke sighed, rolling back on the bed, covering her face with her hands.

“Work,” she replied. When he didn’t reply she looked over at him, watching her, frowning. She reached out and touched his face.

“I can’t take a day off,” she said. “I’d love to, but I can’t. The consultants are back in today and I have to be there.” Finn nodded, nuzzling her hand.

“I get it,” he replied. She smiled at him.

“What about you?” she asked. “Any plans?”

“Well, I thought I might come and see where you worked. And then I thought might wander down to Walker Design,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual, and failing. Clarke frowned.

“Walker Design?” she asked. He grinned at her, then, all traces of coyness gone.

“I have an internship. It’s just for three months, unpaid. But I get to be here and it counts as course credit,” he said smiling at her. “And I can stay here. With you.”

“Finn,” she whispered, sliding closer to wrap him in her arms. She didn’t know what else to say. Maybe without the internship he wouldn’t be here, but he was, and she was pretty sure he’d gone after it for her.

“So I can stay here? Or should I try and find an apartment?” he teased her, holding her close.

“You can stay,” she whispered into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, entwined, breathing in each other’s scent. It lasted for about forty five seconds before Clarke’s alarm went off, an annoying series of increasingly loud beeps. She rolled away from him, hitting the off button as she continued to roll out of bed and on to her feet. Finn groaned.

“Seriously? Just like that?” he asked her. She laughed at him, throwing on shorts and tee she usually slept in, as though there was a point in covering herself after last night. She leaned back across the bed and kissed him quickly on the nose before retreating again, dodging his arms.

“Just like that,” she said. “I’m the boss now, can’t be setting a bad example.” She went to her closet, rifling through her limited business wear before selecting another pencil skirt, this time charcoal, with an ice blue button up. She had nearly exhausted her limited collection of business wear and made a mental note to do something about that if she found time on the weekend. She paused, shirt still in hand, wondering if she could borrow something of her mother’s, they were almost the same size… but she dismissed it quickly. She couldn’t.

“You know,” Finn said from the bed, snapping her out of her revelry. “I was going to say I think I preferred you as an arts major, but I have to admit, you look pretty great in skirt suit.” Clarke laughed at him.

“If you want to catch a ride with me into work, you’re going to want to be ready in half an hour. But you’re welcome to drop in later if you like? Maybe around twelve for a quick lunch?” she asked, pausing at the door as she left to shower. Finn nodded.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he said, leaning back down on the bed. Clarke smiled at him.

“See you then,” she said, knowing he was about to go back to sleep.

“Bye princess,” he said, wrapping himself back up in the doona. Clarke watched him for another beat, tempted to slide back into bed with him and forget about everything else. As she shoved her desires, she didn’t even sigh, and she wondered if that was progress.

\---

Bellamy knew, strictly speaking, that he probably didn’t need to be there anymore. He could probably go back to the office and let Miller do his thing while he did a personnel review. He had all the data at the office. He should go. But he couldn’t seem to leave. Instead, he’d ask Clarke to have her assistant everything he needed so he could work in the conference room. She hadn’t protested. Miller had raised his eyebrows as he’d headed back to the desk he’d commandeered in accounting the day before. Bellamy had given him a look that told him to shut the hell up and he didn’t really know why. She’d knocked on the door twice so far, checking if he needed anything else, and he wondered if she didn’t have anything better to do than bug him. But he’d find himself smiling after she’d left, “okay, just let me know if I can get you anything”, she kept saying. But that was when he’d found it. John Murphy, accounting. Criminal record. A quick search revealed him to have a lot of debt. _Got you,_ he thought to himself, and he’d grabbed the file and headed straight for Clarke’s office. Grateful, suddenly, to have news for her. But the conversation was not going as he’d expected.

“We should ask him! We can’t just accuse him based on his past and some debt. Ask him if he knows that’s going on,” Clarke nearly shouted at him. At some point, she had stood up, and was leaning her hands on her desk. Her cheeks were pink with frustration and her hair was slipping out of the pony tail she’d had it in that morning. Bellamy was mirroring her, hands on her desk from the other side.

“If we ask him he might just disappear with your money. Or he could make it worse! We have to let Miller confirm it first, do some more research,” Bellamy argued back, his voice raised.

“So what? He’s guilty until proven innocent because he has a criminal record from when he was sixteen? Which I knew about, by the way,” she argued back. Bellamy threw his hands up in exasperation.

“You knew about it when you hired him? Are you insane?” he demanded.

“I didn’t hire him, my father did,” Clarke argued back. “And it was the right decision. He did his time, and he just wanted to be a contributing member of society again.” Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm down, and failing.

“Clarke, don’t be so stupid. How can you be giving him the benefit of the doubt when he’s the one destroying your company, your father’s company,” he tried, trying to keep his voice has a speaking level, but he couldn’t keep the frustration out his voice. Clarke glared at him.

“I will not,” she said, hitting the desk with her hand, punctuating her words, “just condemn someone for having a past. Haven’t you ever done things you wish you could take back? Things you’d never do again?” Her voice almost pleaded with him to understand and despite the frustration he remembered that she was not wrong.

“What I may or may not have done is beside the point. I’m the one here trying to save your company, to save you from $650 000 of debt, while you run around protecting the people doing this to you,” he snapped back at her. Clarke was about to answer when there was a tentative knock at the door.

“What?” she snapped. Bellamy didn’t take his eyes off hers as he heard the door opening hesitantly. Her eyes were crackling like lightning and they clearly weren’t done with this conversation. Her eyes didn’t move from his either, until a small cough came from behind him.

“Uh, if this is a bad time I can come back later?” a man said hesitantly. Bellamy turned around, seeing an unfamiliar face behind him. He was dressed in jeans and a ratty canvas jacket, and had hair that was too long. He wondered, momentarily, if this was a janitor on his day off, come to ask Clarke for some kind of favour. But that illusion was shattered with her next words.

“Oh, Finn, yes, sorry, god is it lunch time already?” Clarke said, moving to switch off her screen and shove some papers off to the side.

“Sorry, Bellamy, but we’ll have to finish this later,” she said to him, barely meeting his eyes. “I’ll be back in half an hour or so.” Bellamy nodded tightly, his entire body felt tightly wound.

“Fine. But if it’s all right with you, I’ll keep working in the conference room,” he said, hating himself. She glanced at him, startled.

“Go eat something, Bellamy, it’ll still be here in an hour,” she said softly. She walked around him, to Finn, and he watched her kiss him gently on the cheek, watched the way his arm circled around her. Of course she has a boyfriend, he thought bitterly. Princess couldn’t possibly do without someone to worship the ground she walks on. He felt sick.

“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I was hoping to make it back to my office this afternoon. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can finish this then,” he said suddenly, not wanting to be here when she got back. Not wanting to see her smiling after lunch with this idiot. She tilted her head in that annoying way she had done the day before, the way that made him think she thought he was an idiot, like she’d just notice he was there.

“Oh,” she said softly, frowning slightly. “Of course. Sorry, you’re obviously busy. Tomorrow is fine. In the morning?” Why was she sad he wasn’t going to be there when she got back? Bellamy nodded in response.

“See you tomorrow,” she said to him as she let the idiot guide her out the door.

“Tomorrow,” he replied to her back. And then, when she was gone: “Fuck.”

\---

When Clarke returned to work, she was surprised to find Nathan Miller still working. For some reason she’s assumed he’d go back with Bellamy. She hesitated for a moment, before asking him to meet her in her office when he had a moment.

“What can I do for you?” he asked her, sitting in the chair across from her desk.

“I guess I just wanted a bit of a progress report. How do you think it’s looking?” she asked him, trying not to bite her lip. She’d barely been able to enjoy lunch, thinking about her argument with Bellamy, wondering what to do.  Finn had accused her of day dreaming, but she wasn’t. She was day-nightmaring. What would she do if he left? How would she manage to save the company without him?

“Well, I haven’t found anything definitive yet,” Nathan said, cutting in to her thoughts. “But there’s a definite pattern of money being siphoned out. I just need to figure out who’s doing it.” Clarke nodded.

“Bellamy thinks it’s John Murphy,” she said. Nathan nodded.

“He mentioned before he left. He also said that you disagreed with him,” he replied, trying not to smile. Clarke winced.

“Yeah I wasn’t exactly diplomatic about it. What do you think?” she asked him. Nathan shrugged.

“All I know is that Bellamy is really good at what he does, and he’s probably right. When you look at the rest of the accounts department… it just doesn’t seem like there’s another candidate,” he said. Clarke sighed. “But you’re the boss, Clarke. You’ve gotta do what you think is right and if that’s confronting him then that’s up to you.” Clarke smiled at him.

“Guess I’m just not used to being the boss yet,” she said. Nathan stood, and grinned at her.

“You’ll get there,” he said, and left, closing the door behind him.

She’d wait, Clarke decided, swivelling her chair to stare out the window. She’d wait until tomorrow and she’d confront Murphy with Bellamy there. He wasn’t going to like it, but it was better that he was there, she decided. Better that he knew what was happening. And, she admitted to herself, she might be brave enough to say what needed to be said with him sitting beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent all day writing this fic and I no longer know what I'm doing with my life.  
> My husband wants to know why I haven't done food prep for Christmas tomorrow and I'm too ashamed to tell him.


	5. Murphy

It was 5 pm when Clarke’s cell rang, and she answered it distractedly.

“Hello?” she mumbled into the phone, going over John Murphy’s personnel file for the thousandth time, wondering if Bellamy was right.

“Hello! Long time no chat loser,” her friend Octavia practically shouted into the phone. Clarke dropped the papers she was holding on to her desk and leaned back in her chair with a smile on her face.

“Tav! How’s it going?” she asked her, laughter already bubbling up in her throat.

“Eh, same old same old. Anyway, I was just thinking about how much it must suck balls not getting to hang with me anymore and Jasper and Monty agreed, so we’re coming to Arkadia this weekend, and we aren’t taking no for an answer,” she declared. Clarke laughed and shook her head, thinking that she could probably reschedule her Saturday work load… maybe she should ask Bellamy if… No. It was the weekend. She could take one weekend to spend with her friends.

“Sure. Are you all crashing with me?” Clarke asked, making notes about moving a meeting on Saturday morning for Wells on a sticky note.

“Jas and Monty were hoping to, if that’s cool, but my brother has an apartment in Arkadia so I thought I might crash with him and try and sneak in some family time,” Tav replied. Clarke grinned again. “Just FYI, I’m bringing another with me who’s hoping to surprise her boyfriend. So they might hang out with us a bit if that’s cool?”

“Okay, I’m excited,” Clarke grinned. “Oh, and Finn’s here too, did you know?”

“Of course he is,” Tav replied, and Clarke could imagine the eye roll.

“Uh huh, and how is Atom doing?” Clarke teased.

“Ugh, he is so out of the picture. Lincoln though, now that boy is on my radar,” Tav replied, laughter in the back of her throat. Clarke thought she could picture him, in the year above them, sleeves of tattoos. So her friend’s type.

“Okay, well I’m gonna go, heartbreaker. I have some stuff to finish before I head home,” Clarke replied, smiling.

“All work and no play makes Clarke a dull girl,” Tav replied, almost pouting. “But not for long! See you on the weekend girl.”

“Looking forward to it,” Clarke replied before disconnecting. She grinned up at the ceiling. In two days her friends would be around her and things might even feel normal again, even if it’s just for a night.

\---

Bellamy was staring vacantly at his computer screen when Miller knocked on the open door.  He nodded his ascent, and Miller entered, sitting down on a chair opposite his desk.

“How’s it going?” Bellamy asked, referring, as always, to business first. Miller grimaced.

“It’s a mess, boss. Murphy’s almost definitely doing something shady, I’m nearly there. But it looks like it’s worse than I thought it was. Clarke’s pretty determined to talk to the guy though, before she just axes him or presses charges,” Miller explained. Bellamy sighed and rubbed his face.

“Yeah, she’s stubborn,” he said. Miller grinned.

“Not like you not to enjoy the challenge, Bellamy,” Miller tried, raising an eyebrow.  Bellamy laughed.

“Yeah, but normally, I win,” he returned. Miller laughed too.

“Don’t like your chances with this one,” Miller said. Bellamy shook his head.

“Ah well, get out of here. I’ll meet you back at Griffin Industries tomorrow morning,” Bellamy said. Miller stood, knowing the conversation was over, and taking his leave.

Bellamy leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. He wanted to talk her out of it, wanted to make her understand that he knew what he was doing. He wanted her to trust him. He sighed, tilting his head forward again. He wanted to trust her too. And maybe he should just do it. His rational side was shouting things like ‘she has no experience’ and ‘you literally run a company making these decisions’, but he tuned them out, resolving that tomorrow, he’d just support her, whatever she chose. It’s not like it mattered to him what she did with her company, or if she got hurt, he told himself. Her face flashed in front of him, hair that refused to stay contained, blue eyes flashing with passion, the determined set of her chin. And then the hand of the idiot around her waist and her pale pink lips pressed against his cheek. Nope, he told himself, standing up and switching of his computer. It didn’t matter to him all.

\---

“Look, I still think this is a bad idea, but if this is what you’re doing, I want to be there,” Bellamy said, cutting over the rant Clarke had started the second she’d seen him. What, he’d thought, no hello, princess? But honestly, the way she was wringing her hands made him see that she’d clearly been stewing about this. When he spoke, her face lit up smile. He tried really hard not to smile back. He did. But he couldn’t help it.

“Thank you,” Clarke replied, sincerely. “I’ve scheduled a meeting for half an hour’s time.” Bellamy shook his head.

“Of course you did,” he returned. “Just, are you sure? You understand the consequences of this?” One last try at saving her from herself. She nodded.

“I have to know. I have to see him look me in the eye and tell me or I’m just not going to believe it,” Clarke said with a shrug. I’m glad you’ll be there though, she nearly added, but didn’t. She might not be the most professional person out there but she knew that much.

“Okay,” Bellamy said with a nod. “I’ll see you in your office in twenty minutes.” Clarke smiled at him gratefully before leaving, and he smiled at her back. Business, he cautioned himself, forcing himself to remember the idiot. Business.

Clarke sat at her desk and waited. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, couldn’t even go back over John Murphy’s personnel file. She’d never done anything like this before in her life, and while she talked a good game about morals and what the right thing to do was, she was fairly sure she was going to fall apart before she even had a chance to ask a question. Thank god Bellamy would be there, that she wouldn’t be alone. She knew that she wouldn’t let herself fall apart if he was there, watching her, judging her. And she knew that he’d step in if he thought she wasn’t handling it. There was a part of her that hated how much she needed him right now, but it didn’t change the facts and she’d never been one to let pride get in the way of getting the job done. Her hands itched, reminding her that she should draw something, get the feelings out of her head and on to paper. Reminding her that his is how she coped when she thought she was going to fall apart. As she reached automatically for paper and a pencil, she realised she hadn’t drawn anything in days, and she didn’t know how that had happened.

She just doodled, at first, abstract lines and angles, just movement, committing lead to paper. But as she drew something began to take shape before her. Her parent’s house, her home now, filling up the page beneath her. She kept drawing, sketching her father and mother sitting together on the porch swing on the veranda, somewhere she’d never seen them, but it didn’t seem right to draw the house without them somehow. She hesitated over her mother’s face, not wanting to draw it. Not wanting to think about how she felt about her right now. Not wanting to admit what to herself that she blamed her for being the driver of the car that had killed them both. She was still frozen, staring at the blank space where her mother’s face should go when she was startled by the knock at the door.

“Come in” she called, snapping out of her reverie and shoving the drawing aside. Embarrassed, she looked up to see Bellamy looking at her with an amused expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked stepping in to the room, closing the door behind him. She nodded. And then shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she said, suddenly honest, letting her head fall into her hands. Bellamy stood, halfway between the door and the desk wondering which way to go. He knew what he wanted to do. Cross the room, move around the desk, and take her in his arms. Which made no sense at all.

“Um, okay?” he said finally, not moving from his spot in the middle of the room. “Do you want me to go, or?” His voice trailed off uncertainly. Clarke pulled her hand from her heads, shaking her head.

“Sorry. I just… I’ve never done this before and I’m really sure I’ve got no idea what I’m doing,” Clarke said, apologetic smile lodged awkwardly on her face. Bellamy took this as a sign to sit down across from her, grateful for a sign, any sign, of what he was meant to do.

“You’re going to be fine,” he told her. He had no idea if that was true or not, it just seemed like the right thing to say. Honesty? He asked himself. And he sighed. Business. “Or, maybe not. I don’t know, Clarke. But what I do know is that you are doing your best and maybe it’s not good enough but I’m here and I’m on your team.” He finished with a shrug. Clarke sighed.

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, unsure of what else to say. She was struck again with how much she’d like to draw him, glancing down at the pencil still in her hand.

“So, where do you want me?” he asked, cutting in to her thoughts, and she wondered, momentarily horrified, if she’d said what she was thinking out loud. Seeing her confusion, Bellamy added, “For the meeting?” She gathered herself quickly, praising the powers that be that she still had control over her mouth.

“Yes, um, maybe beside me? Like, I don’t want it to seem like we’re ganging up on him but…,” Clarke began. Bellamy nodded.

“Good instincts,” he replied, moving the chair he was sitting on around the desk to sit beside her. In doing so he noticed the pad she’d been sketching on. He touched it lightly and Clarke’s cheeks coloured.

“That’s really good,” he said after a moment, fingers still touching the page. Clarke swallowed down on the softness of his voice. It felt like, for a moment, his fingers were touching her skin instead of the page, and she burned.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, shifting uncomfortably, trying to straighten her already straight clothing. “I was just, um…,” she tried to find something to say that wasn’t embarrassing. She drew a blank. Bellamy surprised her by picking up the pad and handing it to her, he was smiling. She really, really wanted to draw the way his cheeks crinkled when he did that.

“Hey, we all have the ways we unwind,” he told her. And suddenly Clarke didn’t feel so nervous, as she took the pad from him, their eyes met, and they froze. Clarke wondered what was happening, how she was feeling. She wondered for a moment, if he was going to kiss her.

A knock on the door startled them and they jumped apart, the pad ending up in Clarke’s hands, and Bellamy striding across the room to open the door. Clarke prayed her cheeks weren’t pink as Bellamy opened the door for John Murphy, introducing himself and inviting him to take a seat.

If she were honest, Clarke would admit that John Murphy had the kind of face you’d use to model the villain in a cartoon. All beaky and sunken eyes. She tried not to let his appearance get in the way of him as a person and she remembered the day her father had hired him. Unsure if he was doing the right thing, but willing to take the risk. _We all deserve second chances, baby girl_. She hoped he’d been right, as he took the only seat left in front of the desk.

“What can I do for you?” Murphy asked, sitting in his seat like he’d summoned them to a meeting. Smug prick, Bellamy thought. He glanced at Clarke to gauge her reaction but she was smiling politely at him, like she didn’t notice. Maybe she didn’t, he thought, she was dating the idiot, after all.

“Well, obviously I’m new to this, but I noticed some discrepancies in the accounting, so I called in Mr Blake and his team to investigate what was happening and help us get back on track. They alerted me to the fact there was a lot more than one discrepancy, and suggested that maybe someone in accounts wasn’t exactly doing their best work,” Clarke tried, carefully walking the line between accusing him and explaining the situation. Bellamy sat beside her, watching Murphy’s face, looking for signs of discomfort. He wasn’t disappointed, because by the time Clarke had stopped speaking Murphy’s face had twisted into a scowl.

“And what? The ex con must be behind it?” Murphy snapped viciously. Clarke sat back slightly, shocked. “I know you’ve never liked me, but this is low.” Clarke frowned.

“I’ve never had a problem with you John. And I’m disappointed that the first thing you think is that I’m accusing you when I was just explaining the situation,” Clarke returned. Murphy scoffed.

“If you think you’re fooling anyone with that act, you’re wrong,” he snarled at her standing up. “I don’t need this shit. Your old man was good to me but this is a joke. I’ve worked here for five years, and what have you been doing? Wasting Jake’s money trying to be a painter. You’re a spoilt brat, Clarke, and you have no clue about the real world.” Clarke set her jaw, trying to keep her temper under control, trying to come up with something to say that would diffuse the situation. She glanced at Bellamy, who looked furious. He stood up, standing just about Murphy’s level.

“Mr Murphy, I’d suggest you take a seat and remember your manners. Miss Griffin is your employer, and you don’t have the right to speak to her that way. She just wants to ask you some simple questions,” he said slowly, trying not to let anyone see how angry he truly was, how badly he wanted to punch he prick sitting across the desk for speaking to Clarke like that. Business, he reminded himself. But it didn’t work.

“This is all your fault,” Murphy yelled at him. “Without you, she never would have figured it out.” Clarke leapt to her feet.

“Figure what out, John?” Clarke asked him quietly. Murphy grinned, no Bellamy thought, leered at her.

“You know exactly what. And you know what, I’m glad you do. See you never, bitch,” he spat out and turned on his heel, exiting the office. Bellamy took a step forward to go after him, but stopped when Clarke slumped down in her chair, her hands in her face.

“Fuck,” she whispered. This was all her fault. And there was nothing that could be done about.  Bellamy sat back down in the chair next to her, suddenly feeling like he was too close to her and not close enough at the same time. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.

“Just, don’t even try, okay Bellamy. You warned me. I know you warned me. You were right. I should have just…,” her voice trailed off and tears began to leak out of her eyes.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said. He wanted to touch her, tell her it would all be okay, that he’d make it okay. But he knew that it wasn’t that simple. He wasn’t sure she was listening.

“I’ll call the police, try and stop him leaving the country with the money. Try and get it back,” he said, before standing again and leaving the room. He barely heard he whispered thanks as he closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, unable to sift through the mass of emotions rolling through him. His fists clenched and unclenched. After a moment he looked up to see Wells looking at him.

“Make sure Murphy isn’t able to get back onto the premises,” he almost snapped.

“Yes, Mr Blake,” Wells said, turning back to his computer. Bellamy watched him for a moment, thinking.

“And … bring her some donuts,” he added, walking away.

“Yes, Mr Blake,” he heard Wells say to his retreating back.

 

He wasn’t going to punch anything. He made the deal with himself as he paced in the conference room, waiting for Miller to arrive. He wasn’t going to punch anything. He wondered if there had been away for him to stop this, to stop it from getting this far. To have stopped her from speaking to Murphy. If he should have just gone to the police himself, without all the evidence he’d needed. If he should have just taken Murphy out in to the parking lot and beaten the shit out of him. Yeah, Blake, because that’s professional, he scolded himself. He sighed and sat down. And then stood up again, resuming his pacing.

“I’ve got it,” Miller said, dropping a USB and a stack of files on the conference room table.

“Everything we need?” Bellamy asked, stopping his pacing, looking at his employee carefully. Miller nodded.

“Yep, I’m pretty sure he’s stolen about $6 million dollars over the five years he’s been here. Little bits at first, and then more and more as time went on. $2 million in the past year. Company should have been doing really well, but now… now she’s going to be lucky if she’s got the full month before she has to close down,” Miller explained watching his boss carefully.

“Fuck!” Bellamy shouted suddenly. Miller jumped. He’d not heard his boss curse like that before. His eyes widened as  he watched Bellamy slump into a chair and put his face in his hands.

“Are you… alright?” Miller asked tentatively. Bellamy didn’t move from his position on the chair.

“Just call the police and tell them we have everything including a verbal confession,” he said through his hands. “And get accounting on to changing all the passwords and account information you can.” He heard Miller retreat out of the room and he wondered how the hell he was going to tell Clarke this latest bad news.

 

Clarke knew that this was all her fault. She’d barely moved since Bellamy had left her office, and half an hour later she was still there, elbows on her desk, index fingers pinching her nose, trying not to start weeping again. Fuck. She should have listened to him, trusted him. She hired him to help her and he was right, if she wasn’t going to listen to him, what the fucking point was there in paying him. If she was even going to be able to pay him at this rate.

“Fuck,” this time she whispered it, as the door to her office opened a crack.

“Clarke? Can I come in?” Wells asked her. She swallowed hard and sat up in her chair.

“Yeah, what do you need?” she asked him, wiping under her eyes, making sure she didn’t have leaking mascara down her cheeks.

“Mr Blake said you could use these,” he said, setting a plate of three donuts and a cup of coffee on her desk.  She fought back a sob of gratefulness.

“Thank you,” she managed, finally. “Thank you, Wells,” she said again. He smiled at her.

“Quite alright, Clarke,” he said. “Do you need anything else?” She tried to smile at him, but she couldn’t. She wished her assistant would stop walking in to her office and finding her in tears.

“No, thank you Wells,” she said, and he departed, leaving her alone, and unable to stop the tears any longer from trickling down her face. She sighed as she picked up a donut. Thank you Bellamy, she thought softly. She sighed through her donut. Now to make it up to him by actually listening next time.  But today, she was going home early. She worried it might be a sign of weakness but decided she didn’t care. One hundred people, she reminded herself, and she started crying again. And they were all going to lose their jobs because you couldn’t do yours. She put the second half of the donut back down on the plate, crying too hard to enjoy it.  She knew she wouldn’t leave early. Fifteen minutes she told herself. She was allowed fifteen more minutes of being too depressed to move and then she was doing something about it. She was good at making these kind of deals with herself. Her phone rings as she bargains with herself, and she nearly doesn’t answer it, but she sees Finn’s name flashing on the screen and she wonders if it will help.

“Hey,” she whispered into the phone, trying not to let him hear the tears.

“Hey Princess,” he replied in that reassuring, simple tone of voice. She sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something is wrong?” she asked him, her voice clearing. She could almost hear his grin.

“Disturbance in the force. Spill,” Finn said. Clarke looked around her office and suddenly it felt like Finn didn’t belong there, in this new world she was building. She didn’t belong there either, but she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t think he’d understand and in some ways, she didn’t even want him to.

“Just a bad day,” she said finally. “Found out someone was stealing from the company.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Finn said. She wondered what else he could have said that wouldn’t have made her feel like she was talking to a stranger.

“Yeah,” she said. “So why did you really call?” Finn laughed.

“Oh, just wondering if you’d be home for dinner. I was thinking Chinese?” he asked. She tried to smile.

“Sounds good. Don’t forget spring rolls,” she told him. “The vegetarian ones.” She heard a soft knock at the door.

“Like I’m going to forget your spring rolls, princess,” Finn teased her.

“Yeah?” she called out, mouth away from the speaker, she knew Finn still heard her, but he didn’t respond. The door opened, revealing Bellamy. He looked awful. He just looked at her for a moment, and Clarke new it was bad news.

“Finn, I’m going to have to call you back later,” she said into the phone, not looking away from Bellamy.

“Okay princess, see you tonight. I love you,” Finn said.

“Love you too,” she muttered into the phone absently before hanging up. “What’s wrong?” she asked Bellamy, who hadn’t moved from the door way. He looked like he wanted to leave, but he made his way over to the chair in front of her desk.

As Bellamy crossed the floor, he realised he’d interrupted a phone call with her boyfriend and he felt even worse. But it couldn’t be helped. He looked at her helplessly, the tracks the tears had made down her face weren’t obvious, but he could see them glinting softly in the light. She sighed.

“It’s bad,” he started, and then stopped. Unsure how he was going to say this to her. How he was going to crush her.

“I know,” she said, smiling at him. “I should have listened to you. Just… tell me how bad.” He looked at her again and he wondered where she found the strength to say what she was saying, to act like it was going to be okay, like he was going to make it okay. God, he hoped he could make it okay.

“Over the five years he worked here, he took over six million dollars from the company. Two of them in the last six months. He made a massive withdrawal this morning, I’m assuming just before the meeting. You’ve got less than a month,” Bellamy tried to keep his tone even, and for the most part he was succeeding. But the look on Clarke’s face was killing him.

Clarke was shocked. Her father had been good to him? Meanwhile he’d been stealing millions of dollars. Dad had trusted him, I trusted him, and now we’re screwed, she thought to herself. She wouldn’t cry. She swallowed down hard. Nodding to show Bellamy she understood.

“Tomorrow,” she managed. “Can… can we talk about options tomorrow?” She looked so small sitting there across the desk from him. He knew faster action was better than slow. But what difference would a day make? Not enough to make it worth her talking about it now, he decided.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “I’ll work with Miller to prepare some options for you. But you’re probably going to need to make a decision by the end of the day. We can’t leave it over the weekend.” Clarke nodded again.

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right. Thanks, Bellamy.” Clarke smiled at him, looking so dejected sitting across from her. Bellamy looked at her in shock. Why was she thanking him? What had he done but brought more and more bad news?

“You’re welcome,” he said, in the end. “Tomorrow, bright and early.” Clarke smiled at him again, nodding.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed, and he left the room. When he was gone, Clarke picked up her donut again, tears gone. Stressed though she was, she knew that Bellamy was going to figure something out. It was going to be okay, she told herself sternly. Stop borrowing trouble. She glanced at the clock, it was still early. 3pm. Too early, she knew, to get away with slipping out. She knew she should stay. Should work it out. But she knew she was going to be useless for the rest of the day anyway. So she shut down her computer, said goodbye to Wells and went home to curl up on the sofa and wait for Finn to come home with Chinese food. But she knew that when he got there that she probably wasn’t going to talk about it.


	6. Blake Siblings

Bellamy Blake was not looking forward to seeing Clarke. This is what he told himself. And honestly, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he was going to have to have with her. But how could he not look forward to seeing her? With a back bone of steel and her heart on her sleeve? With the way she smiled at him like he was good for something? He forced himself to think of the idiot, Finn, or whatever his name was. Forced himself until it hurt. He knew that she was there, down the hall, but he stayed seated in the conference room, waiting for her to come to him, to be ready to hear what he had to say. He was staring through the windows of the conference room out in the hall when he saw a familiar person bouncing between two guys. He flew to the door without thinking, opening, standing in the hallway, gaping.

“O?” he asked incredulously. She whirled around, grinning at him, the guys she was with taking a second longer.

“Big brother!” she called out, bouncing back to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her back numbly, still in shock. He drew back, arms still around her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her in disbelief. She grinned at him.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” she asked him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m working,” he said. O’s eyes widened, and behind her, he saw Clarke coming down the hall. The guys O was with noticed and turned around. She grinned when she saw them.

“Jasper! Monty!” she called out to them, arms open.

“Clarke!” they replied in unison, moving in for a three way hug, laughing.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked them, pulling back. O laughed.

“We’re visiting Clarke,” O told him, before disengaging and joining Clarke and the guys. She wrapped Clarke up in a hug.

“Ugh, I missed you!” Octavia said, laughing.

“I missed you too,” Clarke was laughing back. “I thought we were meeting up tonight?”

“Yeah, but we wanted to let you know we were here, check out your new digs,” Jasper nudged her. Clarke laughed.

“Yeah, slightly different from my studio huh?” she asked them, they all laughed.

“At least I don’t have to worry about getting paint on clothes,” Monty teased her.

“That was one time!” she protested.

“It wasn’t!” they all corrected her, as though it was a game they all played. Bellamy stood watching. He so rarely had the chance to see Octavia with her friends, just watch her be happy. And Clarke. Clarke had come alive in a matter of minutes, touching all of them over and over, reminding herself they were here.  Then she looked up at him, seeing he was there, and the light didn’t drop out of her eyes.

“Bellamy,” she said, startled. “Sorry, I’ll be right… just, give me minute,” she said. He nodded.

“No! Wait a minute, Bell,” Octavia stopped him. Clarke looked at her shocked. Bellamy paused, looking back at his sister.

“I forgot my key, can you lend me yours?” Bellamy laughed. It was such an O thing to do. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and worked the house key out of the ring. Her brother. Clarke’s ears were ringing. Tav was staying with her brother. Bellamy was her brother.

“And what were you planning to do if you hadn’t serendipitously run into me?” he questioned her, teasing gently. She laughed.

“Waited until you got off work with these idiots,” she said, inclining her head. Then, remembering, she introduced them. “Monty, Jasper, this is my brother, Bellamy. Bellamy, meet Monty and Jasper.” He nodded at them briefly, turning back to O with a raised eyebrow.

“They don’t look like girl friends, O,” he cautioned her. She laughed again at his over protectiveness.

“That would be correct. But they are just friends. No, I dropped Rae off at her boyfriend’s internship to surprise him. You’ll meet her later tonight. Probably,” O grinned wickedly and Bellamy had to fight the urge to ruffle her hair.

Clarke had never seen him smile like that, and she was transfixed, watching this private part of Bellamy Blake. Wondering what it would be like to have that smile directed at her. Wondering if she had known that he was Octavia’s brother if she would ever have hired him. Wondering if it made a difference.

Bellamy looked up at her, remembering himself, where they were. His face stiffened. She was his sister’s friend. And she was about to lose everything. He prayed that she was going to forgive him, forgive O for what he had to say. Clarke almost winced when the smile left his face. He wanted to say sorry already. But he couldn’t. Octavia looked between them and winked at Jasper and Monty.

“C’mon boys, let’s leave the business people to do business things,” she said. Jasper and Monty hugged Clarke again quickly, saying good bye and standing back, letting O give her another fast hug.

“See you tonight,” Clarke promised them as they made their way back down the hall way.

“Be safe!” Bellamy couldn’t help but call out behind her. She didn’t turn around, but her heard her laugh as she disappeared down the hall way. Clarke moved to stand to beside them and he suddenly wondered if this would be what being a parent with her would be like. Calling cautions to their children as they walked off into the distance. He coughed, frowning. So inappropriate, he chastised himself again.

“Are you ready?” he asked her. She looked up at him, all the laughter gone from her eyes and nodded. He turned and went back into the conference room with her following him.

Clarke glanced around, expecting to see Nathan there as well. But he wasn’t there. She raised her eyebrows in question at Bellamy as she sat down opposite him.

“He’s still sorting out the accounts,” he replied, answering the unasked question. “But I have all the information I need to start laying out your options.” Clarke nodded, preparing herself.

“Clarke, you’re going to have to shut down and dissolve the company if you expect to walk away from this,” he said after a moment. She went to protest but he raised his hand to silence her. “I know what you’re going to say. But everything else is too much of a risk. You’re going to have to shut down, you have enough left to pay almost everyone out, and when you sell off the assets, you’ll even walk away with enough that you won’t go bankrupt, maybe even finish art school. It’s your best option,” he explained. Clarke was shaking her head.

“It’s not an option, Bellamy, I thought we’d been over this,” she explained. “I’m not just-“

“Clarke, you’re going to have to. This was before we found out how bad things were with Murphy. You’re going to have to face facts here. You don’t have any other options,” he cut over her.

“There’s got to be other options. You said there were options,” she challenged him.  He threw his hands in the air.

“They aren’t good options, Clarke! There are no good options. But this is the best one for you,” he nearly shouted. Wondering how this had got so passionate so quickly. He didn’t think he’d ever yelled at a client before. But Clarke was giving as good as she got.

“So tell me the other options,” she demanded. Bellamy shook his head.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he replied. “I’m trying to find a way for you to not end up bankrupt and destitute because do you really think you’re going to come back from that, Clarke?” She glared at him.

“You don’t know anything about me, Bellamy Blake. Not a damn thing. And if you think I’m just here to save my own ass then you clearly haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying,” she fumed, before standing up and storming out of the room.

Bellamy fell backwards in his chair. Well done, Blake, he told himself. Great work.

Clarke was pretty sure she was actually going to kill Bellamy Blake.

She’d hired Blake Consultancy to help her save her fath-, _HER_ company, to save the livelihoods of the hundred people working for her. She was a fine art major with no business experience, her father was dead, and the company that was his life’s work was falling apart and the man she hired to help her save it was telling her to cut her losses. To cut all of their jobs. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. But… what choice did she actually have? In the end, she had no clue what she was doing. Maybe Bellamy fucking Blake was right. Irrationally, she blamed him for this, she realised. It wasn’t his fault. This was her mess, her father’s inherited mess, and she didn’t know what to do. And worst of all she’d just stormed out like a fucking child. Great, she finished chastising herself, real mature Clarke.

“Fuck,” she whispered quietly, letter her head thunk on the cool glass of the window. A tear leaked out of her eye. “Fuck,” she whispered again, letting it slide down her cheek.

“You know,” a voice called from the doorway, “I don’t say these things to make you angry.” She wiped her face, she hoped surreptitiously, and turned on her heel to face him. Her blue eyes were shining and the front of her hair was curled slightly from being pressed against the window.  Bellamy, for a moment, wished he could say something, do something to make this easier for her. Hold her even. Fuck, he cursed internally. You shouldn’t care, you don’t care, he reminded himself. It was business. Just because she was taking it personally… it was business.

“I know,” she acknowledged softly, before meeting his eyes to continue “But I still hate you for it.” She’d raised her chin slightly, though her tone hadn’t changed. The corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily. She smiled back at him, suddenly. It lit up the room, just for a moment, before it disappeared. For a moment, Bellamy glimpsed who she would have been two months ago, before all of this happened and he wished he could have met her then, wondered if he’d visited O at school if he would have. If they’d have hit it off... He coughed, remembering himself. Business, he reminded himself.

Clarke moved to sit down on the small couch closer to the door. Without thinking, she slipped out of her heels and curled her stockinged legs underneath her, her skirt wrapped tightly around her thighs. She leaned backwards, letting her head knock the wall behind her. God, she was adorable, he thought as he moved to sit beside her, his side pressed in to the couch, his shoulder propping up his head from where it leaned on its back. He tried really hard not to think about kissing her. About holding her. About reaching out for her hair and tugging it. He watched her, instead, trying to be in the moment. Waiting for what she’d say next. For a moment, she softened, and he wondered if this would be okay, if they would work it out.

Clarke felt the heat radiating from his body and wondering if someone ought to do something about the air conditioning in this place. She was so tired. She wished she could just curl up and go to sleep. It was 9 am in the morning. How was she so tired at 9 am in the morning? She closed her eyes and brought her head up, turning it to look at Bellamy, watching her. She took a moment to wonder where all her anger drained away to.

“I can’t give up on this, Bellamy,” she whispered. “I can’t give up on my father. And I can’t give up on the hundred people that make their living from working here.” He opened his mouth to reply. But she gave him a look of such understanding that he closed it again, waiting for her to continue.

“I know that you’re right, I do. But I can’t give up. I won’t. So tell me, tell me what I should do because I just don’t know anymore,” she added. “You keep telling me to cut my losses, shut it down and sell it for parts. And I know that, financially, you’re right. After what Murphy did to the accounts… I get it. But it’s not right that one guy can cost everyone else their livelihood. So tell me what to do, tell me how to save it. Tell me I can save it, Bell, please.” He swallowed down hard, trying to ignore that she’d shortened his name for the first time, and the way her voice broke in the end. He sighed. And she looked away, as though that was all the answer that she’d needed. He sighed.

“Well, there are options. I mean, they aren’t good options. Especially for you. You could reduce the employees by half – that would keep you afloat for six months if nothing changed, longer if you took more contract work. You could reduce slowly, ten at a time until things improve. But then, it’s a month to month thing, and no one is secure in their jobs. You could try selling the company whole, but I doubt anyone would take it, especially not at a price to make it worth selling,” Bellamy ran through options, knowing none of them were good enough. Knowing he had no answers she’d like. He wished he could save her. Like some kind of stupid white knight. And he hated himself for it. He liked to win, to dominate... to fuck women once and never speak to them again. He didn’t want to hold some woman’s hand and tell her everything was going to be alright… except he did. He wanted exactly that, and he wanted it a lot, and he hated himself for it. But Clarke had closed her eyes and he wanted to kiss her eyelids softly, and whisper it would be okay. That they’d figure it out. But he couldn’t. He reminded himself of the idiot’s hand on her waist. Business, he reminded himself. Honesty, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t lie to her… to a client. He wouldn’t lie to a client.  Fuck.

Clarke sighed again. All she wanted, she thought again, was to sleep. Maybe tucked into his chest. Her eyes flew open. Where the hell did that come from? She sighed, again, and wondered if she would run out of them at some point, like a quota that had been filled. She thought of Finn, briefly, and felt unspeakably guilty. She swallowed.

“You’re right, they aren’t good options,” she told him, looking into his eyes. Clarke wanted to say more. But she was just so tired.

“Clarke, you’re tired. I know, and it’s exhausting. But we’re going to have to make a decision today,” Bellamy tried, knowing that ending this moment would hurt. Knowing that all he wanted was for her to be okay. Shit. She shook her head and smiled at him while her eyes filled with sadness.

“I need to make a decision,” Clarke replied. Wishing it were different. Wishing she were different. Wishing she’d taken at least one damn business elective to prepare her for this.  She groaned. “Ugh, I hate how right you are!” she covered her face with her hands, pinching the bridge of her nose with her index fingers. Bellamy chuckled softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman say that to me before,” he teased, and then paused. “Except maybe O.” She looked up at him then. Her mind raced. She was so fucking stupid, of course he had family, a life outside of work. She just hadn’t thought about it until right at that moment. He was more than this.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I… I haven’t been very fair to you, have I?” Bellamy started, shocked at her words, and he frowned.

“What do you-?” he started, confused, but she cut him off.

“I haven’t treated you like a person. I’ve treated you like a… a med kit or something. Like all you were was a way to fix this and when you couldn’t I punished you. But you’re a person and you’re doing your best and I’m sorry. I’m sorry but… I still can’t do what you’re asking. I still can’t let this go. But it isn’t working, Bell,” she was going to say more, but she couldn’t, tears in her eyes. He stared at her, waiting for the next thing to happen. Trying not to think about what she was saying except in a businesslike manner. But this wasn’t businesslike. This was Clarke.

“Hey,” he said. “That’s why you hired me.” His tone was meant to be light and teasing, but he wasn’t sure he carried it off. Clarke just shook her head.

“But that’s not all you are. I’ve been so focussed on treating everyone like a person, not like a number, and here I was being a hypocrite with you,” Clarke sighed. “But it’s time, isn’t it? For me to make a decision?” Bellamy’s breath stops and he wonders if he means about him and he’s ready for a moment to lean forward and kiss her, but she continues, “I’m going to have to say goodbye to some of the aren’t I?” and Bellamy pulls his shit together mentally and tries not to wince.

“I’m sorry Clarke,” he says. “But you can’t save them all.” Clarke nods.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “I know you are.” Tears leak down her face. Bellamy leans over to the coffee table where there is a box of tissues. He snags one and offers it to her. She accepts it. “So why does it feel like this?” And then, all of a sudden, it clicked for him. He understood why she was so angry, so resistant. He understood why she wasn’t doing the thing that left her most financially stable. And he understood, finally, why she was so difficult to work with. Because CEOs did not put employees first, managing directors only cared about the bottom line, and the owners of large companies so rarely cared about the faceless workforce. But Clarke Griffin did, she cared so much she was willing to risk bankruptcy to save them. It wasn’t that she wasn’t listening, it was that she was listening to things he barely said. She was, Bellamy realised, the most beautiful person he had ever met. He remembered the first meeting they’d had together. _‘These aren’t just numbers Bellamy, these are people.’_ Christ, he was thick. He looked back at Clarke, watching him, waiting for an answer.

“Because you, Clarke Griffin, are a good person,” Bellamy said, finally, and then he sighed. He should go, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her. She sighed again, closing her eyes, and he found himself leaning in, ever so slightly. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Business, he reminded himself sternly. He pulled back and stood.

“It would be easier if I wasn’t, wouldn’t it?” she asked him suddenly, looking up at him. Business, business, business, his tried to repeat the mantra again and again, trying to block out the way she looked at him, like he could actually save her despite everything he’d done and said. The way he wanted to just make it all go away for her. To kiss it better… that was so fucking ridiculous. BUSINESS, he shouted at himself. He nodded at her, clearing his mind and squashing every emotion.

“Probably,” Bellamy replied, trying not to sound apologetic. Trying to sound like he was a professional. Trying not to sound like Clarke Griffin’s full blue eyes were undoing him, like her heart was undoing him. “Look, take a minute and come back to the conference room when you’re ready. We’ll talk about the best options for the workforce.”

Clarke was taken aback by the sudden gruffness of his tone. She had felt, for a moment, like he was on her side, like it was going to be okay. But she looked at him, nodding, eyes wide. He understood. Of course he did. As he turned and walked out of the room without a goodbye, she almost smiled.


	7. Finn

 Clarke returned to the conference room after twenty minutes, looking pale and worn out. Bellamy had wanted to tell her to go home, but they both knew decisions had to be made, and soon, and more time wasn’t going to make it any better. She’d sat quietly, nodding, asking questions, but it was like she was piloting on automatic. He couldn’t see the spark in her eyes. She’d stopped arguing. And Bellamy wondered what he was going to do about. But in the end, she decided. Twenty jobs, twenty people were going to lose their livelihood. She was going to do everything she could to hire them back, or give them excellent references, he knew. He knew she wasn’t going to sleep well tonight. But then, neither was he. He’d never seen the numbers as people really either.

It was three o’clock when she’d sent out the memo, telling people what was going to happen, asking for volunteers, but listing the names who’d go if no one did. She’d wanted to tell them herself. Sit each person down and say the words over and over again. But Bellamy wouldn’t let her. She was grateful, as he’d pulled the woman who’d represented their HR department in, Harper, sat her down and explained what was going to happen. Harper kept glancing at Clarke, and all she did was nod and apologise. Bellamy explained about the accounts problem that this had been going on for a long time, Clarke was just the one who’d figured it out. He’d handed over the agreed upon message to be sent out.  By four o’clock, they’d had ten volunteers, and Clarke and wordlessly handed Harper the ten remaining names. Work had all but stopped while they waited to find out what would happen next, and Clarke couldn’t blame them. The whole day, Bellamy hadn’t left her side, ordering lunch for them, working through what to do next, calling Wells to find the people he needed. Clarke was so unspeakably grateful for him, for all he was doing. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to do it without him.

When five thirty rolled around, and everyone knew the bad news that was getting it, and had gone home, she and Bellamy sat quietly in the conference room still, knowing it was time to leave, but not quite sure how to. Clarke reached out and touched his forearm, and looked up at her, surprised.

“Thanks for today,” she said quietly, smiling. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” The quiet gratitude in her eyes made him so sad. He hadn’t felt like that in a long time. So useless. He flashed back to O crying after their mother’s death and shut it out quickly, like he always did. Instead he smiled back at her gently.

“Anytime,” he said, wondering what he meant by that. But she sat up after that, stretching, arching her back gently. He tried not to watch her. Clarke compartmentalised the day, work was work, she decided, but O and the boys were here to have some fun.

“So, are you coming out with us tonight?” she asked him, grinning as though the day had never happened. Bellamy wondered if you could get whiplash from a conversation, but he smiled at her instead.

“Not sure that would be entirely appropriate,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.  Clarke laughed and shook her head.

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but after the day we’ve had I probably owe you a drink. And Nathan too. Besides, pretty sure Tav would love you to join us.” Bellamy grinned back, wondering what O would really think about the situation.

“We’ll see,” he replied, thinking he probably wouldn’t miss it for the world.

 

Octavia had texted her earlier, telling her where they were meeting, and that Raven and her boyfriend were coming too. Finn had texted her telling he was out with some friends from work, and Clarke took that as a good sign. She messaged to meet up with them later if he liked and he said he’d try. She was excited to wear her old clothes again, as though she could slip back to who she was a month ago before all this started. And by the time she left the house she was excited to see her friends, to drink, have fun, and be merry. Just for a night. Willing to forget work for the evening, to not be Clarke Griffin CEO, but be Clarke Griffin, early twenties again. And she was looking forward to hanging out with her friends again.

When she arrived at Charlotte’s Bar, O spotted her first, jumping up and down so she’d notice. She noticed that Bellamy was there, wedged in between Monty and Jasper, laughing at the argument the best friends were clearly having. Clarke made her way over, weaving through the crowd, just in time to catch the end of Monty’s rant.

“There is no way that we’re going back up that mountain,” Monty finished darkly. Jasper began to protest.  Clarke grinned at Monty.

“Mount Weather?” she asked him. Monty nodded his agreement.

“Tell them, Clarke, it wasn’t so bad. And the view was great,” Jasper said. Clarke shook her head grimacing.

“Nope, never again. I swear, I thought you were going to die up there, and Octavia was injured, and I literally thought I had killed you all by dragging you up the mountain with me,” Clarke replied. “Bushwalking again, yes. Mount Weather? Fuck no.” Bellamy was frowning.

“Octavia was injured?” he asked. Octavia rolled her eyes and shoved Clarke.

“Now you’ve done it!” she said. “He’s never going to let me out of the house again.” Clarke laughed, smiling reassuringly at Bellamy.

“She’d just rolled her ankle, she was good as new in two days,” Clarke confided. Bellamy nodded, smiling back at her in thanks. He liked these people, O’s friends. They were good people, and they took care of each other. He was glad Clarke had them too. He was about to say something when Octavia spotted Raven in the crowd.

“Rae!” she shouted, jumping up and down again. Raven waved at her, looked over her shoulder at the person behind her, and starting weaving through the crowd. It wasn’t until they were almost at the table that they glimpsed the man she dragged behind her. Finn.

Everyone froze, except Raven, completely unaware.

“O, Monty, Jasper, this is Finn,” Raven introduced. “Finn this is… everyone.” Finn paled, not letting go of Raven’s hand, but not moving towards them either. He’d locked eyes with Clarke, panicked. Bellamy wanted to punch him. It wasn’t like he had all the facts, but he was pretty sure that Finn deserved to be punched.

“You bastard,” Octavia hissed and Jasper had caught her arm, holding her back as she jumped forward. Octavia’s movement left room for Clarke to leave the table and she stood, eyes still on Finn.

“Clarke,” Finn tried, his voice breaking. But Clarke just shook her head, and walked away. Finn took a step after her, and then looked down at the hand holding Raven’s, and stayed there instead.

“What’s going on?” Raven asked, confused. Bellamy stood up, nudging Jasper out of the way.

“Idiot,” he said, shaking his head. “You fucking idiot.” Octavia shook Jasper off, reaching for her brother. But Bellamy dodged her and went after Clarke, leaving the other’s to put the pieces together without him. He knew that it shouldn’t be him, that it should be O or one of the others. But they weren’t moving and he wasn’t waiting to see if she’d try and drive after finding this out. Today, today of all fucking days, he cursed silently, weaving through the crowd, trying to find a way out to the car park. He made it finally, busting out from the heat and people and into the cool, clean air, head searching for Clarke, or at least the blue thing she drove. He found her, leaning against the door of the car, staring out into nothing. He crunched along the gravel towards her, and she looked up at him after a moment.

“You,” she said softly. “Haven’t you saved me enough today?” she asked. Bellamy couldn’t help the way the left corner of his mouth twisted up into a wry smile.

“Apparently not,” he said. “You okay?” She shrugged.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know,” she said, sliding down the car to sit on the gravel. Bellamy took a seat beside her, but not touching her, not saying anything.

“He’s an idiot,” Bellamy told her. She looked at him.

“Pretty sure you’re obliged to say that at this interval,” she said. “And he’s actually pretty bright.” Bellamy shook his head.

“Can’t be. Not possible,” he said. Clarke laughed bitterly.

“I think I’m the stupid one,” she said. “I didn’t have a fucking clue. Maybe I deserved it.” And then she looked over at Bellamy, suddenly realising who he was. He saw her pull away, shutting down the emotion. He wants to touch her, but it’s already too late and the moment is past.

“Sorry, so unprofessional,” she said after a moment, she started to stand up and he joined her.

“It’s okay,” he said, dusting himself off. She shook her head in disbelief. The sound of gravel under foot made her look over his shoulder, and he turned as well. Octavia was running outside with Monty and Jasper in tow, heading straight for them.

“Clarke!” she shouted, heading over. But something in Clarke’s face made her stop.

“Did you know?” Clarke asked quietly. But they all heard her. She was looking directly at Octavia. “Did you know?” she asked again. Octavia shook her head.

“Clarke, I swear to god, I had no idea. Raven said her boyfriend was interning here, but she never mentioned his name. I had no idea,” she said, taking another step forward. Then she turned on Monty and Jasper.

“He was your friend,” Clarke asked them, point blank. They both shook their head.

“We’re your friends too, Clarke,” Monty said.

“We would never have let him… if we’d known…,” Jasper tried. Clarke shook her head.

“Well fuck,” she announced, turning back to Bellamy. “Looks like you were wrong after all. Looks like Finn Collins is pretty damn smart, actually. Because I wasn’t the only one he had fooled.” Bellamy frowned, heard the crunching gravel of the others coming closer and knew he couldn’t reach out for her, touch her arm. But he didn’t know what to say.

“C’mon Clarke, we’re taking you home,” Monty said, slinging an arm around her shoulder, and she nodded, tears welling up.

“We’re going to get really drunk,” Jasper agreed, slinging his arm around her other side, and they started to move to the car.

“So I guess I’m not coming home tonight,” O said to him, apologetically. He just nodded.

“Go, look after her,” he said. “It’s been a really crappy day.” She looked at him, tilting her head. He smiled at her, his little sister, grateful again that she’d be with Clarke, looking after her. Wishing he could be there too, but a piece of him was when she was there. After a moment, O nodded, and darted off to join her friends. Clarke looked over her shoulder at him once as he stood, watching them go. She broke away from her friends for a moment and took a step back towards him. She was already far enough away she had to shout.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she called out to him. He laughed then. How did she know him so well.

“She makes an excellent point,” O added, as Clarke turned away. Bellamy nodded, and headed back towards his car, knowing that going inside would only result in him punching Finn Collins in the face. He’d do it too, if she asked him. But instead she asked him not to, so he has to respect that too. He sits in his car for a moment before he turns it on and he knows that there is no way any man with a brain in his head would cheat on Clarke Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until later to post this... but I think we all wanted shit to blow up with Finn. 
> 
> More updates after Christmas!


	8. Mistakes and Endings

It wasn’t until Bellamy got home that he realised how stupid he was.

You are a grown ass man and she is a client, he berated himself. This is not how you feel about clients. He froze momentarily as the voice in his head continued unbidden: this is not how you feel about anyone. The only solution, he decided, was to drink. A lot. And hope it went away in the morning. He poured himself a whiskey and sat on the couch in silence, debating whether or not to turn it on. He tried shoving blonde hair and blue eyes out of his head, but the image kept reappearing. He flicked the television on and watched mindlessly as a game filled the screen, swallowing down his whiskey, and refilling the tumbler as each glass ended. It’s Saturday, it’s not like I had anything planned, he tells himself, considering the impending hang over. The thinks of O, momentarily jealous that she is with Clarke. He remembered, briefly, thinking that he’d been grateful that a part of him would be with Clarke when she was there. He growled at himself, get it together Blake! He downed the rest of his tumbler, and finding the bottle empty went in search of more whiskey.

It was stupid, and he was putting an end to it. He was not going to think about her as anything other than a client and if he couldn’t do it then he would walk away from the damn company and not look back, he told himself. No, you won’t, he replied. You wouldn’t do that to her. Which is exactly the problem, he raged again. Miller, you could leave Miller to help her. He’s not as good as I am, he rationalised. But he’s something. He’s help. And then he’d be there in the conference room with her every day. Not every day. How much longer did he really think he was going to have an excuse to show up? Griffin Industries didn’t have money to burn and they’d dealt with the problem. Murphy was gone and his shit storm was left behind, but he always left that behind. He wrote reports, left advice and contingencies and then he walk the fuck away. Right now, he should be walking away, not planning how to stay longer, not thinking like the best part of his day was the way her eyes sparked when she was passionate. No. Time to put Clarke Griffin out of your head, he told himself, and yourself out of your misery. With whiskey. Lots of whiskey.

By the time he heard the knock at the door he was thoroughly drunk. He was tired, he was annoyed, and he was considering, seriously, never stepping foot in Griffin Industries again. He opened the door to reveal a girl who looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. He frowned. Had he slept with her? Was she back for round two? She was pretty, olive skin and long dark hair, thin.

“Bellamy?” she asked him, looking up at him. He frowned harder for a moment, leaning against the door frame for support. He nodded, still trying to place her.

“I’m Raven. Is… is Octavia here?” she asked softly.

Shit, Bellamy thought, leaning away from the door frame. The other woman. Or was Clarke the other woman? He had trouble thinking about Clarke as being – stop thinking about fucking Clarke, he cut himself off.

“No, she’s uh… she’s not here,” Bellamy said, trying not to sound as drunk as he was. “But come in. You were meant to be crashing here, right?” Raven nodded, coming into the apartment. She froze in the middle of the room, not sure where to go. Bellamy indicated the couch with his hand and she moved in the direction.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Whiskey?” he asked her, considering refilling his own half empty tumbler. He looked back at Raven sitting on the couch.  Raven stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Whiskey, neat,” Raven replied. Bellamy grinned.

“Love a girl who loves her whiskey,” he replied, pouring the glass. He handed it over and she knocked it back in one go.

“Another,” she said. Bellamy shrugged and poured another glass.

“Not actually a bartender you know,” he said, handing it over. Raven shrugged.

“Thanks,” she said, drinking this one slower. Bellamy returned to the couch, sitting next to her, both staring vapidly at the game on the screen. Or at least, he thought they both were, which is why he was so surprised to suddenly find Raven straddling him, kissing him with a lot of force. He jumped, his hands flew to her waist, holding her back. Raven glared at him.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy asked her.

“Would have thought that it was obvious,” Raven replied. He looked at her face carefully.

“I don’t generally sleep with my little sister’s friends,” he cautioned. Raven snorted.

“My boyfriend doesn’t usually cheat on me,” she replied. “You don’t have to snuggle me after, or call me or whatever. I just…” Raven trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. For a moment blonde hair and blue eyes flashed in front of his face. A week ago he wouldn’t have protested. What difference did a week make? He asked himself. They weren’t even really friends, he reminded himself. And Raven was hot, here, and willing. Maybe tonight he could just feel like himself again. He shifted his hands so he we was touching her, not holding her back and Raven’s eyes widened.

“Okay,” he said, simply. If she was using him, he could use her too. He could stop thinking about her. He could feel like himself again.

“Okay?” Raven asked him, unsure. Bellamy shrugged.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going to talk you out of it. If you want to do it, let’s do this,” Bellamy replied, leaning back on the couch, waiting for her to make a decision. Raven paused for a moment, considering, and then went back to kissing him.

 

\---

“Did it help?” he asks her as she shifts away from him, moments after he has rolled off her. He wonders because he’s not sure it helped him at all.

“No,” she replies. “But it wasn’t ever going to, was it?” He realises that he would have said something sarcastic a week ago. He would have made a comment about his cum being magic. But instead he doesn’t, and just watches her slip her clothes back on. Because he wonders if he knew it too, before they started, that it was never going to help.

“Where am I sleeping?” she asks, still not turning around.

“First door on the left,” he replies before flopping back down on the couch, closing his eyes. It’s the whiskey, he tells himself, explaining the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s the whiskey.

“Bellamy?” At Raven’s voice he opens his eyes and props himself up to look at her. She’s looking at him, but he can’t read her expression.

“Thanks,” she says, and then disappears into the room.

He’s never regretted a one night stand. And honestly, the sex was great. So he wondered why that if he didn’t know any better he might say he was feeling guilty. She’d told him not to do anything stupid. Clear as day, her tear stained face looking back at him across the parking lot. Don’t do anything stupid. And he wondered how a client he’d had for a week could make him feel this messed up.

\---

“Clarke, you can let it all out you know,” Octavia said as they lay on the couch with Monty and Jasper, some ridiculous movie playing in the background she didn’t even know the name of. Jasper gave her a gentle shove in agreement, while Monty chuckled at something on screen. Clarke sighed and reached over the boys for the popcorn. They’d abandoned drinking earlier in the evening, the mood just didn’t seem quite right.

“I am letting it out. It’s stupid. I was dumb. But I wasn’t… I don’t know. Being here made it different. It’s kind of hard to care too much about Finn when twenty people lost their jobs today because I gave the order,” Clarke shrugged. Tav poked her.

“You weren’t dumb, Clarke. Not unless we all were. None of us knew. Hell, I knew them separately and I had no idea they were together,” Tav said. “He was just a really fucking asshole.”

“I wish I’d never introduced the two of you,” Jasper said, then, suddenly very serious. Clarke shoved him and gave him a sad smile.

“Not your fault, Jas,” Clarke told him reassuringly. He grinned at her, thankfully, before turning back to the screen.

“Seriously though, where’s your girl rage? Why aren’t you throwing shit and cutting up his clothes?” Tav asked her. Clarke laughed. She’d wondered that too, for the first hour. Wondered why she’d stopped crying, why she wasn’t furious. She’d wondered why this hadn’t broken her, yet another thing that was out of her control ripping her heart out. Her parents, the company, Murphy, the jobs… and now Finn. Finn who she’d trusted. Who she thought she’d loved. And she had. But she wasn’t in love with him, she realised, and she’d been realising that since he got here. Tav was still looking at her like she was crazy for not taking Finn apart limb by limb.

“Honestly, Tav, I think maybe it’s not the worst thing that’s happened in the past week. Or even today,” Clarke replied, almost laughing. Maybe she’d just cracked, she thought to herself. That’d make sense. “I don’t even know how I got through today, wouldn’t have without Bellamy,” she admitted. “And Finn’s just… One guy. I don’t know. I’m… I feel like shit. I feel like I’m so unworthy and useless and stupid and this is just… this is just par for the course or something. I don’t… It’s not like a deserve it, it’s just… I don’t know. It is what it is, and it doesn’t matter as much as everything else going on right now. It’s just one foot in front of the other time, Tav.” Clarke shrugged. The others shifted away from her, looking at her strangely.

“Clarke,” Octavia whispered, reaching her hand out to touch her.

“That’s… that’s not a way to…,” Monty said.

“We’re… we’re here… you know?” Jasper said. Clarke shook her head.

“You guys… you’re better than I deserve. I’m… I’m not fine. But it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Really,” Clarke said, smiling sadly, touching Octavia and Jasper, who were closest, and nodding at Monty.

“Na, Clarke. You’re the best of us,” Monty said.

“For sure,” Jasper said.

“Always,” Octavia agreed. “And you deserve better than Finn. And better than the shitty hand life’s been dealing you lately.” Clarke didn’t know when she’d started to cry, but the tears were trailing down her face by the time Tav had stopped speaking.  She covered her face, crying quietly, and her friends just curled in around her wordlessly, and Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually felt anything close to this loved. And maybe, she thought to herself, ignoring the flash of Bellamy’s face, everything was actually, finally, going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really struggled with this. And the last chapter. If it was just me, and the characters were mine, I'd have sent Finn running out into the carpark in the last chapter, and, I don't know, something. Clarke would have been furious, raging. 
> 
> And I really debated hard about whether or not Raven and Bellamy would have sex. Like, really hard. In my version, he's already falling for Clarke, so why would he? But then... I don't know. It made sense. She'd have nowhere else to go but to where she was meant to sleep and he'd be there and drinking, annoyed at himself for being too familiar and it just... made sense in the end? Bellamy's fighting this feeling, has been the whole time, and I think in the show he is too, and it's a Bellamy-way to shove her away from him. It just doesn't work. 
> 
> And then Clarke... Look, I'm going to be honest. Some of her emotion here I took from a friend of mine who got cheated on and found out just after some other crap went down, and she was blaming herself for everything and yeah. I don't know. What do you think?
> 
> I'm loving writing this. A lot. I'm currently at 25K words written and about ten chapters and I'm thinking there's going to be maybe thirteen or fourteen in the end? But I'm not willing to put a number on it yet. But we're in the home stretch guys.


	9. Fall Out

It was 10 am when Octavia arrived at Bellamy’s apartment, her usual mix of bouncing and excitement making it sound like someone had used a wrecking ball to open the door. Bellamy could have killed her. His head was already pounding and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He hadn’t thrown up because of a hangover in a good five years. How much had he had to drink last night? Whiskey. Lots of whiskey. And Raven.

“Bell? Are you here?” O yelled, dropping her bag loudly. Bellamy struggled to sit up. He tried to make a noise. It came out as a moan.

“Shit, Bell, you look like crap. How much did you have to drink last night?” O asked him leaning in the door way. He groaned again, unable to form complete sentences, or even words. She laughed.

“I’m going to get you some aspirin and water,” she said, before flouncing off. He groaned again, meaning thanks, and flopped backwards. He was trying to put his shit back together, but all he could think was that he was never, ever going to drink that much ever again.

O returned, carrying with her aspirin and water, and he took them gratefully. He looked at her, eyebrow raised, and she interpreted it as a question.

“Clarke’s okay. I mean, she’s not. She thinks it was like, karmic destiny or something equally ridiculous. Like it’s payback for being shitty at being a CEO. Which is dumb because I’m pretty sure that being a CEO is pretty shitty payment for losing your parents and having to give up your dreams. Have you seen her paintings, Bell? She’s so fucking talented and she’s just, like, shoving it away to do this like she owes it to her father. She thinks you’re amazing though,” she added, shoving him. “Apparently she couldn’t do it without you.” Octavia was teasing him, and he knew it. But he remembered enough about last night to know that he was meant to be stepping away from her.

“She’s going to have to, soon enough. Job’s almost done,” he managed, croakily. O frowned at him. He was pretty sure he was frowning too. Did hangovers normally get worse before they got better? He couldn’t remember. O was about to move away but he touched her hand.

“Raven,” he said, voice clearing up slightly. He coughed. “Raven’s here. She came back here last night.” O’s face dropped, hand flying to her face.

“Oh my goodness, I’m such a shit friend. I’m sorry, Bell. I should have… Clarke, you know, she’s just… she’s my best girl friend. And I’m not good at having girl friends. But Rae... I should have been here for her. Should have…,” O trailed off and Bell patted her hand.

“’S’okay, O. Can’t be everywhere at once. Shitty night all round. She’s in the spare room,” he told her, and she left, slightly less bouncy than when she came in.

Bellamy lay back, staring at the ceiling. He, irrationally, wanted to call Clarke. To tell her it’s not karmic destiny; it’s shitty luck. To tell her that he was going to be… fine without him. And he didn’t need to call her because he’d never had a phone conversation with her and he wasn’t about to start with a non-work related matter. And this week he would be tying up all work related matters at Griffin Industries and he’d be all out of excuses to talk to her. Except maybe when O came to town. And he wasn’t going to be sad about that. He wasn’t…

He was going to be sick. He threw himself out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, just making it before he emptied his stomach. He sat there, on the cool tiles, bile still in the back of his throat, and he wondered what he could have done differently so that he wouldn’t feel like he was making a huge fucking mistake.

\---

Clarke had shooed Monty and Jasper out of the house on Sunday morning. She loved them, and she had loved a whole day of playing games, eating junk food, and laughing. But they were loud and constant and she needed five minutes of peace and quiet. Octavia hadn’t come back, hanging out with Raven, of course. She was so apologetic but here was Raven alone in a town and the only people she knew were her cheating boyfriend and Tav, so of course she was going to be with her. She said she was planning on coming over for lunch, so Clarke had sent out Jasper and Monty on the pretext of grabbing Chinese food for everyone, having exhausted the options in the house. Clarke wondered how she was going to manage to make time to grab food and the business wear she’d thought of earlier in the week, wondering if O would be up for a quick shopping trip. The thought of leaving the house drained her of all her energy instantly, but she knew it had to be done. She finished wiping down the kitchen bench and made her way into the lounge room, picking up the few pieces of trash they’d missed from their earlier junk food binge. Her mother would have been so annoyed. Clarke, if your friends can’t treat our home with respect… but her mother was gone. Gone, gone, gone, after driving her father into a fucking telegraph pole. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to…

She was interrupted by a knock at the door and she sniffed suddenly, as if she could inhale her emotions and lock them away. Clarke crossed quickly to the front door as she heard another knock. She figured Jasper and Monty had just forgotten something, and she didn’t think to check the peep hole first. She should have. Her mother’s voice rang in her head for a second time in as many minutes, and she shooed it away, staring at Finn, standing on her door step looking apologetic.

“Clarke,” Finn said softly. Her name sounded like a sigh of relief and he wanted to slap his face suddenly, for thinking he had the right to do that.

“What do you want, Finn?” she asked him, folding her arms across her chest and leaning on the door frame.  His hands were in his pockets and he almost toed the ground like some sort of apologetic child in a movie. She wanted to laugh, suddenly, at how ridiculous this was.

“Um, I wanted to say that I was… That I was sorry. That I-,” Finn began, taking a step toward her. Clarke didn’t move, just raised her eyebrows, but it was enough that he moved backwards slightly.

“I don’t care. I… don’t know if I forgive you yet. But I honestly don’t care,” Clarke replied, sighing. Finn winced, as though she’d hit him.

“I care,” he said softly, determinedly in that voice that had made her start to fall for him in the first place. She shook her head, simpler times. Stupider times.

“I don’t care,” she said again with a shrug.

“Clarke, please, can we at least talk about this?” he asked her. Clarke shook her head.

“No. We can’t. But you can grab your stuff if you like,” she replied with a shrug, leaning backward against the door frame, giving him room to pass through. He took the room to step in to her space, trapping her against the door frame. He touched her, trailing his hand along her shoulder and down her arm. She was too shocked to move.

“Clarke, please. I screwed up, okay. I did. But I don’t want-,” Finn said, before a hand on his shoulder yanked him backwards.

“I think that’s enough of that, bro,” Jasper said, pulling Finn far enough back that he and Monty could form a wall between them. Finn sounded like he was going to say something else, but Clarke cut in.

“Guys, can you take up to my room and help him grab his stuff, please? I think… I think I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll be back in half an hour,” Clarke said, touching Jasper and Monty on their shoulders. She stepped out from behind them, her honour guard she thought briefly, happily. She glanced at Finn over her shoulder. “And you need to be gone when I get back. We’re done, Finn, and it’s not up for discussion.” As she strode off the veranda she was aware of him calling for her, of Jasper holding him back, and Monty telling her to be safe. But she didn’t look back or acknowledge them, she just kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for you comments and your support. I can't even begin.
> 
> I've almost finished writing this piece and it's probably the longest thing I've ever written in my life. Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> However, if you're looking for some really great Bellarke ff go check out KatMorningstar's "Superlatives", it's probably my favourite thing right now.


	10. Falling Apart

It was a beautiful day. She wished, irrationally, that it was snowing, storming, raining. Anything to make this walk physically unpleasant. For the outsides to match her in. She was walking aimlessly, strolling through the streets of Arkadia, and she stopped dead when she realised where she was. Standing there at the crossroads, she wondered how she’d done it. How she’d turn left when she always, always turned right. She drove four blocks out of her way every single day to avoid this intersection, to not be seeing this perfectly innocent looking street corner that had already been restored to its former glory. She couldn’t even tell which fucking telegraph pole it was. And somehow that was the thing that undid her. She didn’t even know which pole the car had crashed in to, where they were coming back from. But this was it. This was intersection where her parents had died.

She fell to her knees beside a brick building, hard on the asphalt, and kneeled on the ground, hands by her sides. She was aware in her peripheral vision of people moving around her, whispering, wondering what she was doing. And she found that she just didn’t care. She was sick of being the strong one, sick of having to do the right thing. She hated her parents for dying, her mother for driving while over the limit. She hated Griffin fucking Industries and fucking John Murphy. She hated Finn. She hated everyone who got to do what they wanted while she was unable to find the time to draw anything, anything at all. She hadn’t even finished the drawing she’d started in her office that day. Fuck, was it only three days ago? She wondered how this had happened, how the last week of her life felt like it had dragged on forever. How she was left her alone when her father had promised he’d always be there. Wondered why her mother’s voice was louder than her father’s when all she wanted to hear was him say that it would be alright. But it was going to, was it? And Clarke covered her hands with her face and began to cry, shifting off her knees and her to bottom, curling herself against the cold bricks, and wishing she was anywhere but here.

\---

Bellamy had spent Saturday nursing his hangover well into the afternoon, and avoiding Octavia and Raven, who hadn’t left the apartment. He’d nodded at them a couple of times, and asked Raven how she was doing as he’d passed between the kitchen and his bedroom. It was all very cordial and polite, and he wanted nothing to do with it. So when Raven had left on Sunday morning, catching a bus back where she came from, he was glad he’d have slightly more of his space back. And slightly less of the feeling of a mistake being rubbed in his face. O was disappearing to hang out with Clarke again for lunch, and thinking he’d  rather eat Chinese than a can of soup, he decided to head out for take out. In the end, he decided to leave before his sister, and he ruffled her hair as he walked past her sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Be good, O,” he said, his voice teasing. She glared up at him, scowling.

“Take your own advice, Bell,” she replied, petulant, and he’d smiled. He’d missed his little sister a lot.

“When are you heading back to campus?” he asked her, pausing by the door, suddenly remembering she’d be gone again before he knew it.

 “Keen to get rid of me so soon?” she teased him. Bell rolled his eyes, and she’d shrugged. “Don’t know. I don’t have a class until Tuesday, but I probably don’t really need to be back until Friday. I don’t really want to leave Clarke alone right now. And Jas and Monty have labs on Monday they can’t miss, so they’ll head back tonight. I’ll talk to her about it tonight. I mean, I can always relocate over there if it’s an issue me staying here?” Bellamy shook his head.

“Nah, feel like I haven’t seen you at all yet. Try and be home for dinner yeah? I’d like to get some quality time in before I’m back in to work,” he replied, heading out the door.

“Will do,” O called after him, and he closed the door behind him. The thing about Octavia, he thought as he went down the stairs, was that she was the kind of person who filled up whole rooms just by being in them. He was still learning to see her as a person, not just as his sister, as his responsibility to protect after a lifetime of having to. Protect her from their mother’s incompetence, from their father’s abandonment, and then, when their mother died, from social services. He’d fought hard to keep them together and he was so proud of who she was becoming. He hated letting go, but he knew that she was going to be okay. And, he admitted to himself, if she was picking friends like Monty, Jasper, and Clarke ( _Clarke_ ), then he knew she was going to be okay.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and found himself smiling as he walked out of the building, turning left towards his favourite Chinese place, when he saw a woman curled up against his building, crying. He winced for the poor woman, wondering what her story was as he took a few angled steps to give her a wide berth, but as he glanced at her, he saw blonde hair. At a second glance he knew instinctively that it was Clarke. He crouched down beside her, before he spoke.

“Clarke?” he asked softly, tilting his head to the side. Clarke froze. She’d felt someone move towards her, but had ignored it, expecting it to be a stranger, asking if she was okay. But it wasn’t a stranger. Moving her hands down away from her eyes, but still covering her mouth, she saw him, crouched beside her, blocking out the sun. She was so hideously embarrassed. She shuffled herself around, her back now against the building, crossing her legs in front of her. She wiped her face, trying, and failing, to stop the tears. At least she wasn’t sobbing anymore.

“Hi,” she whispered. Bellamy almost smiled at her, suddenly grateful to hear her voice. But he didn’t. “Please. Leave me alone.” She added. And then he did laugh.

“Not gonna happen, princess,” he said, standing up, taking hold of her arm and pulling her up with him. She found herself letting him, her back still to the wall. He dropped her arm, suddenly aware it was the first time he’d touched her, and his finger burned. Not professional. Not professional. Did he just call her princess? He shook his head, placing his hands on his hips.

“Please, just… I’m a mess,” she whispered. Bellamy grinned at her, and she almost grinned back. Infectious, that was the word she wanted to use to describe it. She wanted to fold into his chest right then, just be held by somebody, anybody. But this was Bellamy Blake. Consultant. And she wouldn’t let herself.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong but I’d wager I could guess,” he said dryly. “Come on, this is my building. O’s still upstairs. I’ll take you up.” She let him stand beside her, his shoulder just behind hers, not touching. Just guiding, protecting. She let herself feel safe for a moment, let herself be led into the apartment and up the stairs.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said quietly, when they were half way up. Bellamy raised his eyebrows in a question.

“You couldn’t guess,” she told him. Bellamy didn’t know how to take that piece of information. But he decided to play along.

“How many do I get?” he asked her. It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Guesses. How many guesses do I get at why you’re upset?” She laughed softly. Happy that he was there, that he wasn’t trying to console her. Just that he had found her. And she didn’t know what that meant. Instead, she screwed up her nose.

“Well, I’ve already given you a pretty big clue. So I think you get just one,” she said finally. Her tears had stopped, she noted suddenly, and somehow that felt important.

“One? That’s not very fair. How about three guesses? Three is pretty standard,” Bellamy countered. Clarke shook her head, and her hair waterfalled down her back. Bellamy tried not to notice.

“Two,” she counter offered. Bellamy sighed.

“Fine. Two. Uh… ,” he started, before breaking off, thinking. So it wasn’t Finn, and he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach he got when he thought she might not be upset about that. And he doubted it was work, because there wasn’t much of a chance she’d been in since Friday. Which left… “The corner. Where I found you. The car accident,” he said suddenly. “Your parents. That’s why you’re upset.” Clarke started, freezing momentarily on the stairs in front of him. For a moment he wondered if he’d screwed up, if he shouldn’t have guessed, or if he should have guessed something else.

Clarke shook herself for a moment. Of course, of course he’d guess. It was his street corner where he’d found her and it was his street corner where they’d died. It was Bellamy Blake and he was smart and funny and logical. Of course he’d guess.

“Well,” she said, once the moment’s pause had passed. “I guess you only needed one guess after all.” And she smiled at him then. Bellamy felt like he’d won a prize with that smile, and he smiled back, letting him enjoy the moment.

“It sucks. Losing them. But it does get better,” he said after moment. “Promise.” She started again, her mouth opening slightly in shock. She closed it again quickly.

“I… I’m… Thanks,” she finished, finally, unsure of what else to say. Bellamy raised his eyebrows again in a question.

“Thanks for what?” he asked, suddenly aware that he was close enough to kiss her. She was still standing on the step above him, slightly to the side and it would take no effort at all to kiss her. To not kiss her, though, that was taking some effort. She tilted her head gently, considering how to answer. Bellamy wondered if she knew that she’d made it easier to kiss her.

“For not saying that you’re sorry. For helping me with work. For…,” Clarke replied softly, suddenly aware of how close Bellamy was, and how much better him just being there made her feel. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, and she wondered how she felt about that. “Just being you,” she finished gently, with a slight shrug.

Bellamy smiled back at her. God, she was beautiful, he thought. They were standing in the middle of a very public staircase and he was thinking all kinds of things that were inappropriate to be doing in a public staircase. Step back, the voice in his head said. Step back, pull back, back. But he didn’t move.

“Clarke.” He breathed her name.

“Bell,” she returned, just as softly. He wasn’t going to lean forward, he told himself. But he was. He was leaning forward. Don’t do this, a voice in his head said. She leaned slightly closer. Don’t do it, the voice repeated. He leaned forward ever so slightly. Don’t have comfort sex with both women Finn fucked over, don’t be that guy. He pulled back, cursing internally, forcing his back against the wall.

Clarke practically jumped back as he did so. She wondered if she’d done something wrong. She felt sick to her stomach, and she felt the momentary peace she’d found with him slip away. She wasn’t’ going to start crying again, she told herself sternly.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, unsure of exactly what she was apologising for but very, very sure that she was sorry. The look on her face broke something inside him and he wanted to reach out for her, but he couldn’t. Instead her looked at her, desperately sorry and unsure of exactly what to say next.

“Clarke, I-,” he began, before the wrecking ball that was Octavia exploded from his apartment, taking the stairs two at a time, watching her feet. She froze when saw them. Taking them in slowly. Bellamy wished he had a poker face that his sister wouldn’t see through. But he did his best.

“Bellamy Blake what the fuck have you done to my best friend!?” Octavia shouted, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time to reach them, grabbing Clarke in a ferocious hug. Bellamy put up his hands in supplication.

“Nothing! I didn’t touch her. This is how I found her,” Bellamy protested, probably slightly more urgently than he needed to, but the panic in his gut was swirling. He heard Clarke laugh softly into O’s shoulder, even as his sister glared at him.

“He’s right, Tav. He… he helped me,” Clarke told her, still muffled into her shoulder. Octavia pulled back, holding her shoulders to look her in the eye.

“You’re sure? He wasn’t…,” Tav asked her. Clarke frowned.

“Wasn’t doing what? Tav, seriously, he found me, he was bringing me back to you,” Clarke said. Octavia smiled at him.

“Bell,” she said fondly. He shrugged, trying not to notice how nice it was to have the two women smiling at him, being proud of him.

“What were _you_ doing?” Octavia asked Clarke, suddenly, focus back on her friend. Bellamy almost reached out, to pull her back, but he stopped himself. Clarke smiled at her gently.

“Finn came over,” she replied. “And I-…”

“He _what_?” Bellamy and O demanded at the same time. She bit her lip and screwed up her nose.

“Yeah. But Monty and Jas got back in time to save me from him. I told him to grab his stuff and it was over, but I just… I didn’t want to be there anymore,” Clarke said with a shrug. O reached out for her but Clarke shuffled back slightly, and O dropped her arm. Bellamy tried not to grind his teeth. Failing once again, he wondered what the hell had happened to his self-control.

“Anyway,” Clarke said. “I went for a walk and I wasn’t paying attention and I ended up on the corner where…  where my… parents… where they crashed. And I just… I lost it.” She finished, promising herself she wouldn’t cry again, not when she’d just stopped, and she didn’t, even as O wrapped her in a hug.

“Oh, Clarke,” she whispered. “Poor, brave Clarke. All or nothing, hey babe?” Clarke laughed again, a small almost helpless sound that made Bellamy ache.

“I’m… it’s okay, Tav. Promise,” Clarke whispered into her hair. Bellamy remembered that, how quickly you went from desperately needing comfort to comforting those who ought to be giving you comfort. He’d resented it, but the soft smile curving at the corners of her mouth told him that she didn’t. She was better than him, and he knew it. He coughed, looking away.

“I’m, uh… I was… I was just heading out for Chinese,” Bellamy said, finally, indicating the stairs. Clarke started again, third time since they’d been on the stairs and those tiny little jumps made him want to hold her until she wasn’t so scared of everything. Chinese food, he told himself, remember the spring rolls. Clarke’s eyes widened, looking from Bellamy to Octavia, and back again.

“Spring rolls! They’re going to be cold! I’ve got to get back!” Clarke exclaimed. Bellamy wondered if she could read minds. Octavia just laughed.

“Spring rolls,” Octavia repeated. “That’s what you’re going to think about right now?” Clarke laughed, properly this time, and Bellamy felt something in his gut unclench.

“Damn straight. That is, if Jas and Monty haven’t eaten them all. If they’ve eaten my spring rolls, I swear to God, Tav,” Clarke said, shaking her head. Bellamy laughed. Clarke smiled at him.

“C’mon then,” Octavia said. “Let’s go get your damn spring rolls. You’re fracking obsessed.” Turning to Bellamy she added, teasing. “One time she walked two hours to get spring rolls in the middle of winter. Snow storm and all. She’s worse than you about them.” Clarke rolled her eyes at him, including him in something, her friendship, perhaps.

“Wanna join us?” she asked him, suddenly. Then, remembering earlier, before Octavia had come out, they way he’d pulled back so quickly, she frowned. “I mean, of course if you don’t want to or you’d rather… whatever.” Clarke shrugged. Octavia looked between her friend and her brother, wondering what was happening. Bellamy swallowed down. All he wanted was to go with her and O. All he wanted. But it wasn’t… professional. She was his client. She was his sister’s friend. She could be his friend too. The battle raged in his head, his stomach rolling. Go, go, go, his stomach whispered. Don’t be stupid, said his head. Clarke swallowed, turning to O for a clue at what to next.

“Seriously, bro, it’s not that hard. Chinese with us or Chinese on your own,” Octavia told him, giving him a nudge. It’s just Chinese, he said. With his sister and her friends.

“I don’t want to intrude on anything,” he said finally. “I mean, I love you O, but these are your friends and… I don’t want it to be weird on Monday with work.” O scoffed and Clarke shook her head.

“No pressure, but I wouldn’t have asked if I thought it was going to be weird. We’ll just be friends, no work talk,” Clarke told him, reassured him. He wanted to kiss her again. He shouldn’t go.

“Okay, lead the way,” he said finally, and he watched as his sister and the girl he wanted to kiss walked down the stairs in front of him arm in arm, wondering what the hell he was doing to himself.


	11. Backstage Passes

Finn was, thankfully, gone when Clarke returned, the question on her face before she even opened the door. Nodded once, letting her know it was safe, and Bellamy noticed her shoulders drop visibly, as if she’d been trying to keep herself together just in case.

“Was it… was it okay?” she asked him quietly. Monty winced. Octavia skipped past them to Jasper, body checking him, which he returned, while they pulled the take out he’d kept stowed in the oven to keep it warm out and started finding cutlery and plates. He watched his sister and Jasper laugh, dancing around each other, but he was listening to Clarke and Monty.

“It was rough. He’s pretty… I don’t know, Clarke. He was pretty cut up, kept asking us to talk to you for him. Saying he deserved a chance to explain. Jasper kept telling him to shut up and get on with it,” Monty was almost whispering. He heard Clarke sigh softly, and glanced at her, bent into Monty. He wondered if they’d shared something once, or would one day.

“I can’t… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to ever let him have that conversation, Monty,” Clarke replied in equally hushed tones. Monty murmured his agreement.

“You don’t have to, Clarke. What he did… you don’t owe him anything. And he’s gone. His stuff’s gone and he’s gone. We… I mean, I hope you don’t mind… I uh, washed the sheets,” Monty replied, awkwardly.

“Oh Monty,” Clarke whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re the best. Thanks. They smelled like him.” Monty nodded, ducking his head.

“Just looking after you, Clarke, like you always do for me,” he replied. She hip checked him as she released him from the hug.

“I know you’re his friend, Monty. You don’t have to stop being his friend,” Clarke added gently after a moment. Monty shook his head.

“I’m not gonna freeze him out or anything, but he’s kind of lost my trust, you know? Like… Shit Clarke, you’re the best of us, and Raven, she seemed pretty cool. I don’t know. Dude capable of doing something like that to two cool chicks… not sure he’s worth it, you know?” Monty replied. “Jasper’s ready to punch the guy, but I didn’t think you’d approve.” Clarke laughed.

“You guys are the best friends,” she said softly. Monty shrugged and walked away, embarrassed, heading to help Jasper and Octavia in the kitchen.

“So, did you guys already eat the won tons, or?” Monty asked them, walking into the kitchen. Bellamy watched them, they moved like they’d known each other forever. Like family. He was so lonely, all of a sudden, and he barely noticed Clarke moving to stand beside him, watching too.

“They’re so great,” she told him quietly. “I mean, I met Jasper and Monty on my first day on campus. I was lost and they showed me to their dorm, joking the whole time like I was royalty they were showing around. They had no idea what they were doing and got so lost, we had to ask someone for directions. But I’d had such a good time with them… they just sort of stuck around.  They’ve been best friends for ever and I love them both like brothers. Monty, that guy is probably the smartest guy I’ve ever met in my life. He’s studying biochem and process engineering and he’s just destroying it. And O, I mean, I met her on the Mount Weather trip, and she was just… fearless and full of life. Jasper had this crazy crush and I was pretty sure she was going to chew him up and spit him out, I was so ready to dislike her. But… she just wormed her way in to our hearts, and even let Jas down easy enough after it didn’t work out that they stayed friends. She sort comes and goes, her own personal hurricane, but she’s just… there when you need her, you know? You did such a good job with her.” Bellamy was watching her, watch them, fill him in on all the backstory. He had raised Octavia since she was fourteen and he’d never spoken with the kind of pride Clarke had in her voice, he’d felt it though. She looked up at him, suddenly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tav’s probably told you all this,” Clarke said, smiling at him, shaking her head. Bellamy shook his head.

“No, we don’t… she tells me about other things. But… you sound like their mother,” he tells her quietly, hesitating. She laughs.

“Sometimes I feel like it,” she tells him. “But really, they’re the best friends I could have ever asked for. Crazy, but wonderful.” He smiles at her.

“Thanks,” he says to her, looking back at the three in the kitchen, almost finished serving.

“For what?” she asks him, looking back to the kitchen as well.

“For saying I did good with O. For being her friend. She’s all I’ve got,” Bellamy says quietly, realising that it’s probably the first time in years he’s told anyone that. He usually blusters about his company, not the lack of people that he actually genuinely loves. Clarke nudges him then, and while it sends electricity racing through his body, it sits comfortably in the context of group – all of them so physical with each other.

“It’s true,” she says to him. “I’m starving you guys! Want to chuck a movie in while we eat?” Clarke says to the group, walking away from him. And he wonders if that’s what being a partnership is meant to feel like, that step away from the others, looking at them fondly together, proud of something outside of themselves. He wants it. He hates himself for it. But for the first time he’s beginning to wonder if maybe he’s got a shot with her after all.

“Yes!” O replies loudly. “What’ve you got?” Clarke pauses thinking for a moment.

“I don’t remember. It’s been too long. I think most of my stuff is still at school but my parents have… had,” she corrected herself carefully, causing Bellamy to wince for her, “a decent collection in the lounge room. Go pick something while we bring in the food.” Octavia bounced off to do that.

“Jasper, go with her. Action or horror,” Clarke instructs him. Jasper nods, accepting his assignment and heads off.

“You know he’s got no shot against Hurricane Octavia,” Monty tells her before remember Bellamy is there and wincing. Bellamy shakes his head, dismissing the apology.

“I’ll go too,” Bellamy replies, picking up a plate of food. Clarke shakes her head at him.

“No way, you’re probably going to be worse than Jasper at indulging her. Monty, you’re up, take the wontons,” Clarke instructs, handing Monty a plate. Bellamy pauses, grabbing two more plates, bridging them like a waiter. Clarke glances at it and grins.

“There’s a story there,” she says, picking up the other plates, holding them inexpertly. He shakes his head and takes one of them offer, bridging with both arms. Clarke smiles her thanks and picks up the cutlery, a mix of chop sticks and forks.

“Not a fun one,” he tells her, still smiling. She raises an eyebrow. “Had to get through business school somehow.” He shrugs without dropping the plates and Clarke smiles again. He wondered how she kept doing that do his stomach with her smile and if he could get her to never stop.

“Well, it’s impressive. Doubly so now I know how you got the skill. You’re pretty impressive in general, really,” Clarke tells him, leading him in to the lounge room where a battle was raging over 27 Dresses versus Die Hard.

“Guys, for real, Die Hard. How is this even a conversation?” Clarke cuts in, and the argument ends, not without O pouting, but she’s putting 27 Dresses away, knowing she can’t wrap Clarke around her finger. Bellamy is still smiling to himself. Impressive, she thinks I’m impressive. Octavia raises an eyebrow at him and he gives her an innocent look, handing her the plate he guesses, correctly, is hers.

“Cat that got the cream,” Octavia says softly, and he frowns at her. She cuts her gaze to Clarke and back to him, meaningfully. And his frown deepens, trying to tell her she’s wrong. Wishing she was wrong, just a little, but Monty grabs a plate off him, and he hands the one he guesses is Jasper’s over, and he finds a place to sit on the couch. Not close enough to Clarke, he thinks, briefly, before telling himself to stop being so stupid.

The movie starts, and the talking begins before we even see Bruce Willis.

“I just love this movie,” Clarke says.

“We know,” Jasper says.

“I love it,” Clarke reaffirms.

“We know,” replies Octavia. Bellamy feels like he’s seeing part of the secret world of their friendship, like a behind the scene pass to his new favourite band. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows they’re going to groan, but he has to ask.

“Why?” Bellamy asks. And he’s not disappointed with the groans from Jasper, Monty, and Octavia (who even throws a wonton at his head), but he’s even less disappointed with triumphant grin on Clarke’s face.

“Okay so this movie was made over twenty five years ago and it still holds up so well. It’s this fantastic mixture of action and comedy. It’s got something for everyone. Action, humour, suspense, romance. It’s so good. AND, it’s got -,” Clarke is telling him, and he’s trying to focus on her, memorise her in this moment, but he keeps getting distracted by the others mimicking her behind her back. They all finish together, the others with hands on their hearts and fake dreamy expressions, “Bruce Willis!” Bellamy is laughing with them as they dissolve into laughter, but Clarke is pouting, telling them that it isn’t funny, that she’s being serious. Trying to explain the brilliance of Bruce Willis to them. And honestly, he doesn’t need convincing, but he wants to pretend, wants to hear her rant at him, and laugh with these people for hours.

They stop laughing, quietening down as Bruce gets off the plane and sees his name. It’s not until someone throws a wonton at her head when the guard at the plaza is talking that she takes the hint and stops saying every line. Bellamy is just grinning constantly and he can’t stop. He likes these people a lot, and it’s been a while since he’s had this much good clean fun.

“Oh, Tav,” Clarke says, eyes not moving from the screen. “After this, can you come with me to the mall?” Octavia lights up.

“YES!” she shouts, everyone tells her to shut up, so more quietly she asks, “why?”

“I uh… I left the only other business stuff I have on campus and everything else I own screams ‘art student’. I am tapped out of skirts and don’t even ask about my pantyhose situation,” Clarke replies, still not looking away from the screen.

“Jesus Clarke! Shut up! I do not want to hear about your pantyhose,” Jasper says, throwing her a spring roll. She grins her thanks at him, putting it straight in her mouth. Bellamy thinks to himself that he could probably stand to hear a little more, but decides against saying it.

“You mean like actual clothes shopping, though?” Octavia asked her, excited. Clarke nods, looking at her this time. Bellamy loves the look his sister gets when she’s really excited about something, like she can’t wait to do it, and patience flies out the window.

“Mm. Not my strong suit. Everything I have my mother bought for me to wear to stuff, pretty much. And there’s no way I’m raiding her wardrobe,” Clarke said, wincing. Bellamy wants to touch her shoulder and tell her that’s beautiful, that everything he’s seen is beautiful, but he knows that he can’t.

“Seriously, Clarke, if you were going to turn this into the girl-show you should have just put on 27 Dresses and been done with it,” Monty says drily. Clarke throws a wonton at him and he nearly catches it in his mouth, but Jasper still gives him a quick fist bump as a reward. Monty raises an eyebrow at him and Bellamy silently offers a high five, which Monty takes, grinning.

“Alright! I get it! No more girl talk. Yes or no, Tav?” Clarke asks her.

“Definitively yes,” Octavia replies. “Can we-,” she begins, but Jasper and Monty are telling her to shut up, so she huffs and does. And Bellamy has never been happier to be anywhere in his entire life. 


	12. Interlude

In the end, when Clarke and Octavia leave to go to the mall, Bellamy finds himself staying with Jasper and Monty, putting in Die Hard 2 and clearing away the take out mess. For a moment, he wonders if he should go, if he’s over stepping the bounds by being in her house when she’s not there. Or with Jasper and Monty. But that’s him, he soon realises, because they aren’t making him feel unwelcome at all.

“So Bellamy, what exactly do you do? I mean, I get you’re helping Clarke?” Jasper asks him. Bellamy shrugs.

“I’m a consultant. Basically, I go into company’s in trouble, find the problem, and try and fix it,” Bellamy explained. “Been doing it ever since I left business school.”

“So, what does that have to do with Griffin Industries?” Monty asks, walking past them with an armload of dishes. They follow him into the kitchen, and started rinsing and loading the dishwasher. Bellamy rinses, Monty passes, and Jasper stacks.

“I uh, I’m not really sure I should say. I mean, aside from confidentiality, Clarke invited me on a “no business” proviso,” Bellamy says as he rinses the dishes. Monty nods, respecting that, but Jasper frowns.

“Is she in trouble?” Jasper asks. Bellamy shrugs, still rinsing.

“Depends on a lot of things,” he says noncommittally. “I’m doing my best,” he adds, when it doesn’t seem like enough.

“Tav says you’re pretty amazing,” Jasper says after a moment, but there’s something in his voice that says he’s leaving something unsaid.

“But she’s our girl,” Monty finishes for him, handing the last plate over. “We just want to know she’s okay.” Bellamy leans against the sink, looking at them, and he knows they’re trying to figure him out. He wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could say he would do anything, anything at all, to give Clarke everything she wants. That he’ll save the company. But he knows he can’t. Jasper grins at him.

“Yeah, she inspires that in people,”  Jasper says, knowingly. Bellamy frowns, is he that transparent? But Monty claps him on the shoulder, leading him back into the lounge room.

“She makes everyone feel like they want to help her, you know. When we first saw her, we were just like, yep, how can we help? I mean, she probably would have done better without us. But… ever since, she’s just been there. Helping us keep our shit together. Making sure we eat during finals. Being our best friend,” Monty shrugged. “She’s pretty great.”

“Yeah. And then all this shit happened with her parents and everything,” Jasper adds. Bellamy frowns again, listening. He wants to know everything, but he feels like he’s invading her privacy too.

“We thought she’d back in a week. So did she. I mean, she left everything behind, half way through semester. But then she sends us this email saying that she’s not coming back straight away because of the company,” Monty contributes. He shakes his head. “I mean, if this is what she wants…”

“If it was what she wanted, she would have taken business electives,” Jasper cut in.

“Jas,” Monty cautioned. Jasper made an irritated noise while Bellamy raised his eyebrows. Monty looked at him apologetically.

“She’s so talented,” Monty tells him. “Like, so talented.” Bellamy smiles.

“I know,” he replies, telling them like it’s a secret. And maybe it is now. But he’s starting to realise just what she’s given up for this, and it’s making him feel more and more like he’s got to save her. And more and more he wonders if saving the company is going to save her or trap her there, forever out of reach of her dreams. “I caught her drawing in her office one day. This house, actually. It looked like a home.” The boys are grinning at him.

“Yeah, it’s like she fills everything with her heart,” Monty tells him. “I don’t know how she does it.”

“Which is exactly why she shouldn’t be here. She should be coming back with us,” Jasper says, again.

“Jas, we’ve been through this. It’s her choice. And you can’t ask her to do any different,” Monty reminds him. Jasper folds his arms.

“She’s not here is she? Besides, I don’t see why we can’t even ask her about it,” Jasper replies, frustrated.

“Because she’ll cry,” Bellamy says then, softly. “If you ask her about it, she’s going to cry. And don’t you think she’s cried enough?” he asks. At first, he doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but Jasper and Monty are looking at him, so he knows he has. He tries not to blush. Instead he coughs, looking back at the screen. Bruce Willis is being a bad ass. For his wife. Clarke is right, he thinks to himself, something for everyone.

“Yeah,” Monty agrees. “She’s cried enough. Besides, she feels like she doesn’t have a choice.” Jasper just nods, staring back at the screen too.

“You’re alright, Bellamy,” Jasper tells him. “You can stay.” Bellamy chuckles.

“Thanks. You guys are alright too,” he tells them. “Thanks for looking after my sister.”

“Bro, you would not be saying that if you knew the size of the crush Jas has on her,” Monty tells him, grinning. Bellamy wonders why he doesn’t fly into the rage he always used to when someone like Octavia. But he likes these boys, he likes the way they treat his sister, treat Clarke, and he knows that if Octavia ever settled down with someone, he’d be okay if it was one of them. Which is a weird judgment to make after knowing them for a weekend, but it seems a lot of his decisions are being made about people quite quickly lately.

“Yeah? Good luck to him,” Bellamy says, smiling. “She’s heartbreaker.”

“Yes,” Jasper agrees vehemently. “She is.” But he’s laughing, and so is Monty. So Bellamy joins in. After the laughter subsides, they lapse into silence, just watching the movie.

“Dude, I will kill you if you ever tell Clarke I said this, but I really wanna be John McClaine when I grow up,” Jasper says a few minutes later.

“Don’t we all?” Monty asks. They cut their eyes to Bellamy waiting for his input.

“Yippi kai yay,” Bellamy adds and they grin at each other.

“And we’re never telling Clarke?” Monty asks.

“Never,” Bellamy agrees. And he wonders how he’s managed to find two new friends when all he set out to do today was get some Chinese food.

\--

“Octavia, I love you. But I am not wearing that to work,” Clarke tells her, trying to be stern, but she’s laughing. Octavia is holding up a work dress with a plunging neckline and a slit up the back.

“It’s sexy,” Octavia tells her, holding it out. “At least try it on.” Clarke sighs, knowing she won’t hear the end of it if she doesn’t. “Or I’m going home right now,” Octavia adds. Clarke takes the dress, adds it to the stack in her hand and heads for the dressing room.

“I bet Bellamy will love it,” Octavia adds slyly, as the door closes behind Clarke. She’s grateful she waited until she couldn’t see her face before she says it, because she has no idea why she’s blushing.

“Um… okay?” Clarke says, and she’s surprised that her confusion sounds normal and her voice doesn’t shake. Surprised, but incredibly grateful.

“What? Like you haven’t noticed he’s hot?” Octavia asked her. Clarke pulled off her t-shirt and buttoned up a shirt.

“I’m not going to lie, Tav, I’d love to draw him,” Clarke tells her. “But he’s… I don’t even know what the term is,” Clarke sighs, slipping on a pencil skirt. She turns in the mirror, nodding her approval.

“Show me!” Tav demands, like she’s had a sixth sense that Clarke is changed. She opens the door and turns slowly. Tav nods her approval.

“I think the term you’re looking for is something I’m not keen to say about my brother,” Tav tells her as she closes the door to the dressing room again. Clarke winces as she slips out of the clothes, pulling more from the pile to try.

“Try I’m paying him to try and save the company my father built,” Clarke replied. “It’s business.”

“Which is why you need sexy business wear,” Tav replies. Clarke rolls her eyes, changing again.

“Octavia, I have no idea where you are going with this, because I literally broke up with my boyfriend two days ago, my parents died last month, and my company is failing. If you’re trying to convince me to start dating your brother when I’m not even sure I have the wherewithal to use toothpaste to brush my teeth, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Clarke replies, opening the door again for her approval. Octavia frowns.

“Not the pants. They make you boxy. Shirt’s good,” Octavia says before Clarke closes the door again. “I’m not necessarily suggesting a relationship here, Clarke. And I have no idea what was going on in that staircase, but it wasn’t business.” Clarke sorts through the remaining clothes, most of which are doubles in different colours of the things she’s already tried, leaving her with the dress.

“No way, Tav. Not while we’re working together. And then he’ll be your brother and that will be weirder still,” Clarke replied, shimmying into the dress.

“Admit it, Clarke. Just admit you like him,” Tav said, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one who invited him out for a drink. AND you’re the one who invited him for Chinese.” Clarke paused staring at herself in the mirror. The dress was amazing.

“He’s nice. He’s good at his job. He makes me smile. I think he’ll be a good friend, Tav, but that’s it,” Clarke said warningly.

“So you admit that he’s hot and that you like him,” Tav started.

“I’m serious about this, Octavia. I do not want you matchmaking me with your brother. Now, I’m wearing the dress. And if you say one word about Bellamy when I get out there I’m not buying it,” Clarke cut in. She pretended not to hear Octavia’s squeak as she opened the door. Octavia’s jaw dropped.

“Damn, Clarke, you look…,” Octavia’s voice trailed off, and Clarke turned to look in the mirror again. The dress was black, and clung to her curves, hiding the slight curve of her stomach, and thinning her out.

“Hot,” Clarke finished for Octavia after a moment. “I look hot.” Clarke grinned at Octavia in the mirror. “Thanks, Tav.” Octavia grinned back.

“Anytime, babe,” Tav replied happily.

It wasn’t until later, when Clarke had paid for the clothes and they were heading back to the car that Octavia nudged her.

“Bell’s going to love the dress,” Tav told her, but Clarke just laughed.

“What red-blooded straight man won’t?” Clarke replied, and Octavia joined in the laughter.

Clarke felt lighter somehow, laughing with Octavia as they walked back to the car. She felt like she used to feel before everything happened. When her biggest problems had been picking mediums for her portfolio work and finding decent spring rolls on campus. She felt guilty, suddenly, that she was laughing, happy, while her parents were dead, while people she’d tried to protect were out of work. Octavia nudged her again.

“It’s okay to be happy,” Tav told her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Even when things are shit. It’s okay to be happy.” Clarke smiled back at her.

“Thanks, Tav,” she replied, trying to recapture the lightness she’d felt just moments ago. But it was gone again, and she was starting to wonder if that feeling she’d carried around so constantly before would only ever be fleeting now. And then she wondered, briefly, if Bellamy really would love the dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is all fluff and completely unnecessary to everything but I love it so shut up.


	13. Almost Goodbye

Bellamy and Octavia had left just before dinner, after Monty and Jasper had headed back to campus. O had kept saying that she could stay if Clarke wanted her to, but Clarke had been insistent.

“You don’t get to see your brother often, Tav, I remember you complained about it enough. So go take your chance. I’ll be fine. Some quiet time will do me good,” Clarke had replied, smiling. O had kept protesting, but Clarke ushered them out laughing. Bellamy had just let himself be moved along with the current, wishing he could think of something to say that wouldn’t overstep boundaries, but would tell her he was there. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just waved goodbye and told her that he’d see her tomorrow morning. Octavia had hugged her and told her she was sticking around for a few days if she needed anything, but Clarke just kept them she’d be fine.

They’d driven back in relative silence, the four minutes it took to get from Clarke’s house to his apartment. It was unusual for Octavia to be quiet for so long, but Bellamy was distracted, thinking about Clarke. Wondering. It wasn’t until they’d started walking up the stairs, just past where she’d seen them, that Octavia started talking again.

“Bell?” she asked, her voice almost sing-song, like a child.

“Hmm?” he replied, thinking about how close Clarke had been, how her hair had smelled like citrus.

“Do you like Clarke?” Bellamy tried not to freeze, tried not to take the question in the wrong way. Tried to remember to stay professional.

“She seems like a good friend to you,” Bellamy replied after a moment, trying to keep his voice steady. “But she’s just a client.” His voice broke on ‘just’ and he wanted to kick himself. He tried not to look at O’s grin, but caught her shaking her head in his peripheral vision.

“Bro, I love you. But your poker face is for shit,” O informed him, trying not to giggle. Bellamy sighed.

“O, you know I… it’s… it has to be just business,” he told her, told himself again. Even he heard the desperation in his voice. Octavia leaned against the door jamb to his apartment, waiting for him to unlock it.

“Bell. I hate to break it to you, but it’s so clearly not ‘just business’. You like her,” Octavia said. “And why wouldn’t you? Clarke’s amazing. She’s pretty, smart, funny…” Bellamy threw the door open to his apartment, frustrated.

“I’m aware of her qualities, Octavia,” he told his sister firmly. “But she’s not interested in me for anything other than business degree.” He told himself firmly. Octavia laughed.

“Yes, she seemed terribly uninterested in you when she invited you for Chinese food. And it was definitely your business degree when you guys nearly kissed on the stairs,” O told him. Bellamy ground his jaw. Don’t listen to her, he told himself.

“We didn’t… it wasn’t like that, O. And she only invited me because I’m your brother,” he forced the words out viciously. Octavia shook her head, moving to sit on the couch.

“Don’t be stupid, Bell,” she told him, and then sighed. “Look, I’m not saying next time you see her to shove her against a wall and make out or anything. I’m just saying that you haven’t actually asked her out and she hasn’t said no. And I don’t think she would.” Bellamy sat down next to his sister, wondering if he could start drinking whiskey again yet. His stomach rolled, thinking about the hangover. Nope, not yet.

“What makes you think she’d say yes?” Bellamy asked her, curious, hopeful. But he shook his head before she could answer. “Doesn’t matter. What kind of loser hits on a woman who is paying him, especially when said woman has just lost her parents, given up her dream of being an artist, and been cheated on by her boyfriend, all in the past month? That’s not a place you start anything you meant to continue with, O.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. He opened them again after a moment, looking at his sister. She was smiling knowingly.

“What?” he asked her, embarrassed suddenly but unsure why.

“Bellamy Blake, in all my years I’ve never known you once to think about starting anything you meant to continue,” she teased him, speaking as though she were in a rerun of Gone with the Wind.

“Shut up, Octavia,” he told her, but there wasn’t any venom in it. “Just decide on something to watch and I’ll order some pizza.” Octavia just hummed happily as she flicked through the channels on his TV, and Bellamy took that as a good sign that the conversation was over. So he was caught off guard when he rejoined Octavia on the couch after ordering pizza.

“You’ll know if she wears the dress we bought today,” Octavia told him, not looking at him. “You’ll know that you can ask her out.” Bellamy shakes his head, unsure of what to say, how he’d even know what dress. How could a dress even be a sign? Octavia places her head on his shoulder, snuggling in like she used to after their mother died. Bellamy doesn’t say anything in reply, and Octavia doesn’t add anything else. He’s not even sure what they’re watching, but Octavia keeps laughing at jokes that he doesn’t even hear. He’s too busy trying to figure out what O meant, and give himself a stern talking to about what a bad idea it was to even hope. Even if he saw the dress, even if there was a sign… how was he ever going to be good enough for Clarke? Not after what he’d done with Raven. Not after his entire life of selfish pleasure seeking behaviour. Somehow this was easier than trying to talk himself out of it because she was his client, or Octavia’s friend. It made sense. Even if she wanted him to… even if she wanted him, and she couldn’t, there was no way he’d ever be good enough for her. So it was never going to happen. He wouldn’t be the second man to choose her second, after Raven.

He shouldn’t have done it. He could blame the whiskey or his idiocy or the fact he was a guy and she was there, but it was all just excuses. And none of them made up for the fact that he’d known her when he’d done it. He’d known she was kind and beautiful, known the way her eyes sparked when she was passionate. Known the way she always wanted to do the right thing. Known he… it didn’t matter. Because no matter what he did now, there was nothing he could do to take it back and he could never tell her, because if after everything she decided to trust him, he’d already have broken it.

When the pizza arrived half an hour later, Bellamy couldn’t bring himself to eat a thing.

\---

Clarke isn’t sure when she started thinking about Bellamy as a fixture in her life. But it is 8am on Monday morning she’s looking at the projections he left behind in the conference room on Friday, and she’s realising that he really doesn’t have any reason to stick around. His job, she notes, looking over his reports, is pretty much done. That is what consultants do, she reminds herself. They swoop in, save the day, give you a bunch of reports, and bugger off, leaving you to deal with the mess. She swallows down hard, reading what happens if they can’t get some new contracts in, or if they can’t get money back from Murphy. Fucking Murphy. She’s got six months now, if she’s careful, if she’s reading the reports right. Six months to fix the company. She’s grateful for that. Grateful for him doing his job. Grateful for him sitting with her on Friday and helping her through the worst day of her life, even before her personal life had bottomed out, yet again. She sighed, dismissing Finn from her head and going back to the report. It was solid, and it made sense. But she had no idea what to do with the disaster that was the accounting department and she knew that was the next thing she had to fix. She wondered, momentarily, if she could steal Nathan Miller away from Bellamy. She smiled, picturing his face when she’d stolen the last spring roll on the weekend, and wondering if he’d get flustered like that if she stole his accountant away.

Bellamy paused outside the conference room, watching Clarke. She’d been reading the reports, her mouth had a serious set, and her hair falling over face. He didn’t want to brush it away. It was good that she was reading the reports, he told himself. She’d understand what to do, understand that he was going, that it was normal and fine. Of course she would, Bellamy, he scolded himself, it’s not like she’s being as ridiculously unprofessional as you are. She was wearing a blue shirt, not a dress. His stomach seemed to think that was significant. She smiled then, grinning at the paper in front of her, and he wondered what she’d read. Curiosity getting the better of him, he slipped into the room.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Griffin?” he asked her, teasing. Clarke turned that smile on him, upping the wattage, and Bellamy tried not to act like it had any effect on his equilibrium at all as he found his way into a chair.

“I was just thinking about stealing your accountant away,” she confided him. Bellamy snorted. Clarke raised her eyebrows. “What? You don’t think he’s going to want to come work with all of this?” she teased, using her hand to indicate the conference room. But Bellamy wondered if she meant all of her, suddenly, irrationally jealous. He bit down on it, shoving it away.

“Great, steal my best friend and my sister away, why don’t you?” he teased back, not wanting to add the fatal phrase ‘and my heart’. Clarke grinned at him.

“Sorry! Didn’t realise he was your best friend. I suppose you can keep him then,” she replied, before sighing. “But for real, I need to do something about the damn accounts department. I’m sure they’re good people but if they didn’t notice what John Murphy was doing… I just don’t know that I trust them right now.” Clarke was grimacing and he knew why. She didn’t want to get rid of any more people, didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to blame you,” Bellamy told her. “It’s a pretty big screw up.” Clarke sighed.

“Maybe if I can just start with getting someone I trust in, figure out if they’re actually competent or not with decent leadership. If I had any clue what to do I’d go down there myself… but,” Clarke shrugged again, shaking her head.

“Take Miller,” he told her suddenly. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him shock. Even he wondered where it came from, momentarily. You love her, he realised. You actually love her. And this is all you can do for her. Fuck. Clarke was shaking her head.

“Bell, it’s not like he’s an office chair, you can’t just whore him out,” Clarke started. Bellamy shook his head.

“He’s my employee. I’ll still be paying him, and you just pay me what you’d pay him,” Bellamy shrugged. Clarke shook her head again.

“And what will you do while he’s here? Just shut up shop? Don’t be ridiculous,” Clarke replied. “I can’t let you-,”

“You can,” Bellamy cut in, desperately. “Let me help. You’re my sister’s friend and I want to help.” He added that last part, trying to cover himself, justify, explain why this was okay. But Clarke’s smile told him she wasn’t having any of it.

“Okay, first, you’re making a decision without talking to Nathan, which is just inconsiderate. And secondly, I appreciate the sentiment, but this is business. And I’m kind of realising that your job here is…,” Clarke started out well, she knew. She’d sounded responsible, sensible, and like a good manager. But saying it aloud, saying the reality of it, it made her lose her voice. Bellamy was looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen before, like she’d kicked his puppy or something, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. His eyes, she could fall into them. Get it together, Clarke, she told herself sternly, before finishing, trying not to let her voice break on the final word, “…done.”

Bellamy winced at the last word, completely involuntarily. It wasn’t like he didn’t know it was the case, like he hadn’t spent the last twelve waking hours berating himself about it almost constantly. But hearing her say it was like hearing her reject him, even though he knew anything would never, could never, happen between them. He swallowed down, hard. No emotion. Just business. Who the hell are you trying to kid, Blake? A voice in his head asked.

“Yeah, I uh… I noticed that too,” Bellamy replied after a moment. Say something. Now’s your chance, O’s voice in his head said. Say something! He couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that would make sense. Nothing that would stop Clarke looking at him like that, in that strange unreadable way. Clarke was just watching him, wondering. Why was this so hard? It wasn’t like they’d never see each other again, was it? Like they’d suddenly stop being in each other’s lives. But maybe they would, she said. They’d never met before this, and Tav was so rarely in Arkadia… Maybe they’d only see each other once a year. She realised she didn’t want that. She wanted him around.

“We’ll still be friends, won’t we?” Clarke asked, the words rushing out of her mouth before she could stop them. She looked mortified, Bellamy thought. So fucking unprofessional, Clarke, she told herself off.

“Of course,” Bellamy told her, thanking whoever was cosmically in charge for this lifeline. Wouldn’t it be easier to go cold turkey? Wouldn’t it be easier not to see her again? The logical part of his head asked him, reminding him that he wasn’t good enough, that he’d never be good enough. “Octavia will-,” he began, trying to find something normal to say. He was interrupted when Miller entered the conference room, take away cup of coffee in hand, looking vaguely dishevelled. Bellamy frowned, taking in his appearance.

“Sorry, boss,” Miller said, sheepish smile on his face. “Had an interesting weekend.” Bellamy smiled first, knowing that Miller meant a weekend of sex. Something they would have joked about before. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Clarke wince. She’d had an interesting weekend too. He coughed.

“Ah to be young and carefree,” Bellamy told him. “We were just discussing finalising our arrangement at Griffin Industries.” Miller nodded at him sitting down.

“I think I’m almost done, but you really need to get someone good into your accounting department,” Miller said, talking to Clarke. Clarke grimaced at him.

“I know. I was just joking with Bellamy about stealing you,” Clarke replied, laughter in her voice. Miller grinned at her. “But seriously, do you know anyone? It doesn’t even have to be long term. I just need to know if the department needs a complete overhaul or if getting a good guy in would do the job.” Miller pursed his lips for a moment, thinking.

“Yeah, I actually think I know someone. You remember Lincoln, Bellamy?” Miller asked him. Yes, Bellamy remembered him, struggling not to grind his teeth. He’d underwear modelled his way through his accounting degree. Stop it, he told himself. It’s not about sex, it’s about business.

“He’s good,” Bellamy admitted. “I nearly hired him when I started up, until Miller agreed to sign on.” Clarke nodded thoughtfully.

“Can you call him? See if he’s interested? I’ll have Harper prepare something for him to look over if he is,” Clarke said, feeling slightly less stressed. She almost stood up to do it immediately, but she knew she was forgetting something important. “How much longer will you be here for, do you think?” she asked Bellamy softly. Bellamy tried not to wince again, the softness of her voice feeling like a dismissal. Business, he reminded himself harshly.

“End of the day, I think,” he replied, more gruffly than he’d intended. It was Clarke’s turn to wince, his tone making her feel like he couldn’t wait to leave. It’s just business, she reminded herself gently. This is what it’s going to be like from now on, she said. You’re going to have to get used to it. Bellamy wanted to reach out to comfort her, but he couldn’t, especially not with Miller there, watching them. Clarke stood, smoothing her skirt as she did so. Bellamy tried not to think about his hands replacing hers on her thighs. She coughed once, clearing her throat.

“Good. Okay. So, I guess I’ll see you in my office when you know what’s going on with Lincoln, or if you need me,” Clarke said, awkwardly, unable to look at either of them suddenly. She was going to cry, she knew, and she was going to make it back to her office before she did. She took their silence as agreement and she strode out of the room purposefully, heading towards her office. She nodded at Wells, asking him to get Harper to put together a position description and job offer for head of accounting, before slipping into her office, closing the door, and curling up on the couch, letting the tears fall.

“What was that about?” Miller asked Bellamy, indicating the disappearing Clarke with his head. Bellamy sighed.

“I don’t even know,” he said, shaking his head. Bellamy wished he knew, though. And judging by the way Miller laughed, he’d figured it out.

“You like her,” he told his boss, a statement, not a question. Bellamy sighed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he told his friend. “It’s just business.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Miller replied, letting the disbelief show in his voice. Bellamy cut a look at him, but Miller just shrugged. He was never one to press the issue, particularly if it was personal. Bellamy sighed again. He should probably apologise for his tone, he thought. He should say sorry for…

“Shall I call Lincoln?” Miller asked, cutting into his thoughts. Bellamy frowned, before nodding.

“Yeah, do it. I’m just going to…,” Bellamy said, standing up. Miller laughed again.

“Uh huh, just business,” Miller said as Bellamy left the room. Bellamy sighed again, wondering when things had gotten this messed up. 


	14. Sweet Sorrow

Clarke had always been grateful that she was a neat cry-er. Some girls she knew would turn puffy and pink the second they even thought about crying. But her tears could fall quietly enough, and once she had washed away the salty tracks left on her cheeks, no one was any the wiser. She was just about to try and do just that when the door to her office opened, without a knock, and Bellamy Blake slipped inside.

He froze, seeing Clarke curled up on the couch, tear tracks trailing down her cheeks. But it is only for a moment, and before he knows what he is doing, he is beside her on the couch. He puts his hand on her arm.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks her, hating the tenderness in his voice, loving that somehow this feels okay, feels like he’s allowed now, after the weekend, to just be her friend.

Clarke tries not to make a sob at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t known why she’d started crying, not really. Tired, she’d told herself. Too much going on. But the second Bellamy had walked into the room she’d known with an awful certainty that it was because he was leaving and she didn’t want him to, and he didn’t seem like he could wait to leave the mess that was her and her dumb company. This was all Octavia’s fault, she decided suddenly. If she hadn’t said anything… Her thoughts were interrupted by Bellamy, asking her again what was wrong. And suddenly, she didn’t feel like she had anything to lose by being honest.

“It’s stupid,” she tells him. He raises an eyebrow, not budging. She presses her lips together. “I know that you’re a consultant and I get that you’ve done your job and that’s what happens when you hire a consultant. But…,” Clarke pauses, sighing, unable to look at Bellamy any longer. “You want to go and I don’t want you to.” She can’t look at him, staring at her hands instead, wondering what the hell had taken her over to say that.

“Clarke, I-,” Bellamy began, but Clarke shook her head, and he paused, wondering what on earth she was going to say next, and how he was going to respond to it.

“You’ve just… saved me. A lot. And I don’t know how I can run this company without you. Because I just… I can’t do it on my own. I don’t know how,” Clarke admitted, finally looking up at him. Of course, Bellamy told himself, stupid, it’s just business. She doesn’t love you. Clarke watched his face, he looked so torn up, so wounded and she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t think, she just leaned in and pressed her lips to his, ever so gently, quickly, before pulling away.

Bellamy had not been expecting her lips on his. He didn’t even have time to realise what was happening before it was over, and Clarke was looking mortified at herself again, and he was just staring at her, again. What did that even mean? He tried to find some words to string together that were appropriate or made sense.

“What was that for?” he asked her, after an excruciatingly long moment. Clarke smiled up at him, embarrassed.

“You just look like you needed it,” she said. Bellamy sighed.

“Clarke, you’re… you’re wrong. I don’t want to go. But it’s time. It’s business. And this is better,” Bellamy tells her, suddenly aware that he’s not going to die of a broken heart. “Because now you’ll just be able to call me whenever you want as a friend to help you and you won’t even have to pay me.” Clarke’s laughter made him want to hug her, but he couldn’t, not yet. So he just grinned at her as she laughed. Clarke was so relieved, so happy. He wasn’t abandoning her. He was staying. He was going to help her. She wasn’t going to be alone.

“Thanks Bell,” she said, “you’re the best.” And Bellamy wondered for a moment if she knew what he’d done if she’d still say the same thing. He felt dishonest, dirty, and he pulled back from her on the couch, moving to hand her the box of tissues from her desk. He wanted to tell her that he’d do anything for her, but he didn’t. He just managed a smile as she took the box from him gratefully.

“Clean yourself up, Clarke. It’s all going to be okay,” he told her, not believing it for a second.

Clarke smiled up at him, wondering if maybe he was right.

Bellamy spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the way her lips had ghosted over his. He reminded himself of the physicality of her friendship group, and while he hadn’t seen her kiss any of them, he was content trying to pass it off as that. He threw himself in to organising the finalisation of his contract with Griffin Industries, repeating his mantra of ‘business’ over and over and until it was all he could hear. Lincoln was available to start at the beginning of next week, and Miller was happy to hang around until then. Bellamy had lined up another company to consult for before they’d started at Griffin Industries, focussing on operational efficiency, and he didn’t need Miller for the project really. Clarke was going to be fine, he told himself. She really was. And he was going to be fine too.

The end of the day had rolled around quickly, more quickly than he had envisioned it, and he found himself carting the projection documents to her office before he knew it. He knocked once and opened the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just dropping off the projections,” he said as he walked into the room. Clarke blushed, shoving paper away, trying to hide it. Bellamy smiled at her.

“Drawing again?” he asked her. Clarke nodded, still embarrassed. “Can I see?” he asked, dropping the projections on her desk and taking a seat opposite her. Clarke winced.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s…” you, she was going to have to admit. I’m drawing you. “Unfinished,” she said instead.

“C’mon, Clarke, I’ve spent all weekend hearing about what a great artist you are,” Bellamy said. He was curious. He wanted to see what else she could do. The house had been so brilliant, and having been there he understood even more now. Clarke pressed her lips together.

“Okay, but… I just want to say two things. The first is that it isn’t finished. And the second is that you have really great cheekbones,” Clarke said, handing the paper over, bracing herself for a hit.

Bellamy wasn’t prepared to see his face staring back at him in pencil strokes. He knew he was attractive. But he wondered how he’d managed to miss the way he looked so stern, the way his eyes were so dark and the way his freckles seem to dance across his skin. He looked up at her, jaw dropped, unable to form words. Clarke shifted uncomfortably in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have…” her voice trailed off with a shrug. Bellamy shook his head.

“Clarke, it’s so good. I just… is this how you see me?” he asked her after a moment, full of wonder. Clarke ducked her head.

“Really great cheekbones,” she repeated, not looking at him. “And freckles.” Bellamy laughed.

“You know, I’ve never liked my freckles,” he admitted. “But I’m thinking about changing my opinion on that score.” Clarke grinned at him, looking him full in the face. Bellamy lost the ability to breathe for a moment, just a moment, but she’d seen it, looking away again. Bellamy found he couldn’t breathe still, but now it was for a different reason.

“Clarke, I would never-,” he began, not entirely sure where he was going, but sure that he had to say something to reassure her that it would be okay. But would he never, he wondered? Would he actually be strong enough to say no if she asked him, even though he knew he was so undeserving?

“Bell, it’s okay. I just… Not now. I’m not saying never I’m just saying… that this has been a really shitty month and -,” Clarke cut over him, explaining awkwardly, her cheeks colouring slightly. Bellamy’s stomach just kept knotting and rolling around inside him. Hope, hope, hope, he heard himself say. You aren’t good enough for her, he countered.

“No, don’t even worry about it. I just… friends. We’ll just be friends,” Bellamy told her, told himself. Clarke smiled up at him again, worry gone from her face. He did that, he eased that burden for her, he told himself. The right thing to do. He felt sick, and suddenly he just wanted to leave so he could be alone. He didn’t want to be here anymore, with her, feeling like this.

“Friends,” she agreed. She was so incredibly grateful that he understood. But of course he did, he was Octavia’s brother, and surely they were cut from the same cloth of loyalty and friendship. She kept smiling at him, wondering why he looked so uncomfortable. She cut her eyes to the reports he’d dropped on her desk and shook her head, snapping herself back to the task at hand.

“Oh, the reports. Thanks. They all seem really good from what I saw earlier. And thanks for organising Lincoln for me. I appreciate it. I’ll definitely give you a good yelp review,” she teased him, and despite himself Bellamy snorted.

“Thanks, princess,” he replied without thinking. Clarke wondered why he called her that, it was the second time he’d done it. She found herself wondering, momentarily, why it didn’t bother her like it should have; why it didn’t fill her up with Finn. She shook her head.

“So send me you invoice when you get back to the office,” Clarke told him, wanting to talk about something normal, and not wanting to think about anything else. Now who can’t wait to get rid of whom, Bellamy wanted to say, but he didn’t say it. His stomach rolled again and he tried to ignore it. Instead, he stood, extending his hand over the desk to shake hers as he left. Clarke’s mouth quirked up at him in amusement but she rose, and took his hand, shaking it once, mirroring the day they’d met. Had it only been a week ago?

“Will do,” Bellamy says, moving toward to the door. But Clarke isn’t having that, and she darts around the desk, touching him on the shoulder, making him turn, before he makes it to the door. He frowns at her but she ignores it, wrapping him in a hug. It’s not a desperate hug, and her body doesn’t press all the way along his length, but he’s tall, and she’s on her tip toes with her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing in to him. He can smell her hair, citrus, and after a moment of shock, her moves his harms around her shoulders, hugging her back. He wants to crush her to him, breathe her in, but he won’t. She lets him go, steps back smiling at him. But Bellamy isn’t smiling, can’t smile, won’t smile. He looks at her evenly.

“Call me, okay, when you want,” she tells him gently. He’s not angry, he’s just shocked, and she can see that in his face. Maybe she shouldn’t have hugged him she thinks, as he nods and walks out of the room. But she’s a hugger, and she can’t help it suddenly. They’re friends. Friends hug. She goes back to her desk and picks of the projections to read through again and wonders when he’ll call her. She knows for all her tears that she won’t call him first. She won’t be desperate or force her way into his life. If he wants to be her friend, he’ll call her. And with that, she tries to put Bellamy out of her mind, despite the fact she’s reading his words, over and over, and wondering if they’ll be enough to save her.

Bellamy didn’t say goodbye to Wells, and he just waved at Miller in the conference room as he continued out the building. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t think he could. He made it to his car, just sitting in the cool of the parking garage, trying to stop the burning where she’d touched him. Trying to stop smelling citrus. Trying not to think about crushing her body against him and kissing her. About more. About taking off her shirt and feeling the cool smooth skin of her stomach and… Bellamy thunked his head against the steering well. Get it together Blake, he told himself. You’re meant to be just friends. When have you ever been just friends with a girl? he asks himself. He can’t call her, he realises, then. He won’t have the self-control to not take it too far. His stomach twists again, horribly, and he feels the bile in the back of his throat. She doesn’t need me, he tells himself. It’s just business. But he’s never been very good at lying to himself. 


	15. A Phone Call

It had been almost a month since Bellamy had walked out of Griffin Industries for the last time. One month since he’d seen her. O had been at him to call her, say something. Do something. But he couldn’t. And he couldn’t figure out how someone he’d only known for nine days was having this much of an effect on him twenty days later. It made no sense and it wasn’t fair.

He’d tried to stop thinking about her, he really had. He’d tried going back to bars and finding one night stands. He’d tried to throw himself into work with his usual vigour. It had been easier once Miller was back, and he wasn’t constantly jealous that Miller was there with her and he wasn’t. He’d tried not to think of the way she’d held him, or the way her lips ghosted over his, or the way she smiled when she was happy, or the way her… Get it together Blake, he told himself firmly, focusing on the pile of mail in front of him. Blindly, he picked an yellow document envelope off the stack and ripped in to it, pulling the paper out harshly before he realised what it was. Underneath the compliments slip, he could see his face, etched in pencils. He could see her signature underneath, in the corner. Staring, he lifted the slip and looking at the lines. But he wasn’t seeing his face. He was seeing the way his freckles were dotted, almost like tiny eddies on his face. He was seeing the smudges she’d used to give him complexion. The deepness of his eyes, flecked with lightness he hadn’t known was there. This was a study in him, an piece of art. A letter to him in a language he wasn’t sure he understood. His stomach knotted and his heart thumped in his chest. He swallowed down, letting the compliment slip fall back, covering his eyes.

“Bellamy,

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

Thank you for everything.

Hope we can still be friends, even if it’s just when Octavia’s in town.

Clarke.”

She’d written it in hand, ball point pen swirling across the page in cursive. Heart pounding in his chest, he reached for his phone without thinking, dialling the number at the bottom of the compliment slip.

“Clarke Griffin,” she answered the phone with her name, distracted.

“Clarke,” he managed, before panicking. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t going to do this. He was going to save her from him. Save him from his obsession. And now he was calling her. He nearly slammed the receiver down, but was stopped by the sound of her voice again.

“Bell?” she asked, hesitant, hopeful. Bellamy nodded before answering.

“Yeah,” he said, his throat still thick, but he was forcing the words out. “I got your… I got your letter.” He swallowed down hard.

“Oh,” Clarke said softly. He imagined her smiling. Imagined her in her office in the blue shirt he’d last seen her in. “What did you think?” She’s trying to be nonchalant, but he can tell she cares desperately, even through his own panicked thoughts.

“You’re so amazing, Clarke Griffin,” he tells her, smiling.

“And that’s why you decided to never speak to me again?” she replied, and he hated the hurt in her voice, hated the way she sounded like he’d hurt her.

“Yes,” he replied, almost automatically. He can practically hear her raise her eyebrows.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a while, Bellamy Blake,” she tells him, but he can hear the amusement in her voice again, and Bellamy laughs, and she laughs with him.

“Never said I was a smart man, Clarke,” he tells her.

“Pretty sure you did,” Clarke replied quickly.

“I missed you.” He says the words before he knows he’s done it. And they’re so painfully, earth shatteringly true, and he hates himself, wishing he could take them back, but all he can do is wait.

“I missed you too.” The words are soft and he doesn’t know if he’s heard her to start with, but he replays the last ten seconds in his mind and they are definitely there, soft, gentle, and achingly sweet. You aren’t good enough for her, he reminds himself.

“How are you?” he says instead of telling her something else, something that would give him away. Clarke sighs.

“Better than I was. The company’s doing okay now, thanks to your help. Even managed to hire a couple of people back when we picked up some new contracts, and Lincoln’s decided to stay with me. He’s brilliant,” Clarke tells him, and he realises it’s all business and work and he knows he shouldn’t care but he does. He knows that this shouldn’t feel like a rejection after he hasn’t spoken to her in a month, but it does. He can’t say anything, so he just mumbles encouragingly, acknowledging her words.

“How about you?” she asks him, and he finds he doesn’t have anything to say. Because what can he tell her? All I do is work and think of you?

“I’m okay. Work’s constant, as always. Octavia’s been calling me more recently, which is nice. Said she’s coming into town soon,” Bellamy says, grasping for something that doesn’t make him tell her that he misses her again.

“I really need to return her calls,” Clarke tells him, and he can hear the smile and the sadness.

“Too busy?” he asks her, just for something else to say.

“No,” she replies quietly. Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that for a moment.

“Is something wrong? Has she done something?” he asks eventually. Clarke sighs again.

“No. I just… I didn’t want to… hear about you,” she finishes finally, sighing. Always sighing, Bellamy remembers. And chewing the inside of her lip, thinking no one noticed. And then her words sank in. His stomach rolled.

“About me?” he asked again, clarifying.

“Yeah she… I don’t know. I didn’t want to hear about you if I couldn’t talk to you,” she says. Bellamy leans back in his chair.

“Well you’re talking to me now,” he tells her, gently. He hears her swallow.

“Octavia said that you liked me,” Clarke said suddenly. Bellamy froze, bile rising in his throat, panic mode setting in.

“She said what?” Bellamy asked, not in disbelief, but in shock. Pure shock.

“I know. But after she said that you stopped talking to me I just… I know it’s not true. So if that’s what was making it weird or whatever then… I don’t know,” Clarke told him. He wished he could see her face. A lot. They shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone, but he knew they’d never have it face to face.

“Who says it’s not true?” Bellamy asked her quietly.

“Well, you never called me. Generally you call people that you like,” Clarke explained, like she was speaking to a moron. Bellamy laughed at her tone. Maybe she was.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright,” Clarke replied.

“It’s really not,” he countered. He took a deep breath. “I do like you Clarke. I’m just not good enough for you. And I didn’t trust myself to just let it go.” There, he’d said it. And if she never wanted to speak to him again, so be it. But at least he could deal with it now, no matter what happened, instead of wondering what if all the damn time.

“You really are stupid,” he hears Clarke say, and his stomach flips again. He wonders if he’s going to be sick, but there is a laughter in her voice.

“What?” he asks, strangely defensive. She chuckles.

“Bell, just like, generally speaking, you don’t get to decide who you’re good enough for. Pretty sure it’s meant to be a conversation,” Clarke tells him. And he is surprised that he hasn’t realised that before now. So focussed on how he had to protect her, how he had to do the right thing for her, that he’d not thought about giving her any sort of say in the matter.

“Oh,” he managed after a moment. “Well.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he didn’t say anything.

“Never thought I’d hear you speechless,” Clarke teases him. “But seriously, all you have to do is ask.” He wanted to, badly. For a blindingly painful moment it was all he could think about. Kissing her, holding her, laughing with her, tangling up in the sheets with her. It burned him.

“Do y-,” he began, and then Raven flashed in front of his mind’s eye and winced. “You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know me.” He swallowed, closing his eyes, hating himself.

“You don’t know me either. That’s kind of the general starting point for a relationship. And it doesn’t matter. I mean… as long as you aren’t currently in a relationship or anything,” Clarke said, and Bellamy winced, thinking of Finn. “The point kind of is to get to know each other and find out who you’re gonna be together.” Bellamy held his breath, considering. Clarke blew out another sigh. “But hey, I’m not trying to talk you in to asking me out. Whatever. I’m just saying it’s a dumb reason not to talk to someone you could be friends with.”

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked after almost a full minute of silence.

“Yeah, Bell?” Clarke replied, sounding incredibly tired.

“Wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking, and failing. He held his breath again, more nervous than he’d ever been in his entire life. He was literally trembling, and incredibly grateful she wasn’t actually there, as much as he wanted to touch her.

“Why, Mr. Blake, I’d love to,” Clarke replied, delight emanating from her tone. Bellamy wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Bellamy said. “Tonight? Are you free tonight?” Clarke laughed.

“Yes. Jesus, Bellamy, what’s the rush?” she teased him.

“I’ve really, really missed you, princess,” he confided, and she laughed again, before she replied.

“Me too. See you at my place at six?”

“Yes. Definitely,” Bellamy replied, grinning so wide his face hurt and completely not caring.

“And Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah?”

“Bring Chinese food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know y'all are probably like WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S ALL WE GET?! But honestly... I'm done with this. I'm really happy with it. And maybe I'll write more later, or a write a sequel, but I probably won't. Because I don't write happiness very well, and I kind of want to think that they're happy. 
> 
> I'm pretty happy with this, really. And it's been a fun week writing it. And maybe I'll be able to actually sleep now without constantly thinking Bellarke thoughts (a girl can dream, right?).
> 
> Please do let me know what you think. I'd really love your feedback, and the comments I've gotten are the ones that motivated me to get this all out. I'm sorry to the people subscribing that I kept uploading in chunks and spamming their inboxes, but the second I got something nailed down, I wanted of it up immediately. Because I'm crazy impatient like that.


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